


The Collections

by sanyumi



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: AUs, Angst, Canon Compliant, Everything is here man, Far Fetched AUs, Fluff, M/M, Sex, breaking up, everything, happiness, if i tagged shit for every fic, this would take up the whole page
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:02:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 67
Words: 80,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanyumi/pseuds/sanyumi
Summary: Every single fic and drabble I've written and posted to tumblr. Each chapter is a different story, some may be related, most aren't.Rated G-E. Each chapter starts with the rating and a summary. Have fun!Latest chapter: Headcanons





	1. Oliver plays piano/sings at a bar

**Author's Note:**

> idk what's going on with tumblr right now, but just to be safe, I'm backing up every single fic, drabble, and some headcanons ficclets that I've written here for safe keeping. I don't like clutter, which is why I've opted to create this master list to compile all my work in one place. 
> 
> Let's get started with the first coliver fic I've ever written! Updates will be whenever I feel like it (I got about 70 fics to upload) and will be in order from oldest to newest, including codas (let's go on a journey together!)
> 
> _________
> 
> Here we have Oliver singing at a bar. Rated T.

It wasn’t like Connor to hang around bars… he came to bars with a purpose, and almost always succeeded in that purpose; to go home with someone.

So Connor didn’t know why the hell he was here… _again_ , nursing his third bottle of… something, who knew, pretending not to notice the flirtatious glances aimed at him.

As he impatiently tapped his finger on the bottle, Connor scanned the room, waiting as the night crew set up the stage, if you could call the elevated platform that, revealing a grand piano, one of the perks of the downtown bar.

Actually Connor did know why he was here, grossly aware, and only slightly infuriated with himself for acknowledging how pathetic he was.

It didn’t take much longer before a man took the stage, sitting down at the piano while looking at it as if the piece were more than a musical instrument. His eyes, slightly hidden behind circle glasses, glazed over as he ran his fingers lightly over the keys before taking a deep breath, and began gently striking chords, creating a haunting but beautiful melody that resonated through the building.

Connor let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding and grinned, bringing up the empty bottle to his lips to hide it from no one.

Connor was here to see him, the piano player. God he didn’t even know his name but Connor did know he started playing at 8pm and didn’t stop until midnight, when the bar began playing recorded music or held karaoke. And he knew that because he would always stay the entire duration of the man’s set, no matter how many men came to his table to talk, flirt, or buy him a drink.

Music wasn’t really Connor’s thing, although he’d let his car radio linger on the classic rock station, it was mostly for background noise. 

Noise.

This wasn’t noise though.

Connor was sure he had the dopiest smile on when the piano man started to sing but for once he didn’t care. This man could change his entire view on music if he sung for him every day.

He adored how his face scrunched up when he hit high notes or recited an emotional lyric. How his lips would lift during a happy verse, forming small dimples and laugh lines. How sweat would begin to fall down his face after a couple hours of performing. His voice, deep, rich and low, would never fail even after an intense lung-bursting, key-smashing song.

Connor didn’t know if he was in love with this man, but he knew for sure he was obsessed. Obsessed over his voice, talents, his eyes and his fingers, _God_ his fingers. Those skilled digits, flying over the keys with practiced precision, always unfaltering and sometimes commanding. Connor took home images of the piano man’s voice, fingers, body with him every night, imagining those long fingers dancing all over his body, the voice of an angel crying out for an entirely different reason.

As the performer’s set came to a close and he took a bow, telling the crowd he’d be there tomorrow (”same time”), Connor knew he had to act. Sitting at a bar four hours a day for a week just to stalk a guy was not only pathetic and creepy, but also taking a toll on his stamina. As a lawyer, these late nights were usually reserved for researching case material, not fantasizing about hot piano players and their thick arms. 

Connor stumbled from his chair, quickly realizing he was drunk and cursing himself for actually drinking the full four hours, and made his way to the man’s retreating figure, practicing what he would say and coming up with nothing.

 _Shit, fuck, I’m drunk and he’s getting away_. Maybe Connor could wait to talk to him tomorrow (his usual thought process) but before he could change his mind, Connor suddenly collided face-first into the man’s back. He stumbled, cradling his now throbbing nose.

“ _Ow_ , oh God, I’m so sorry,” Connor slurred, muffled behind his hand as the piano player turned around, giving him a once-over and striking Connor into stillness.

Any remaining dignity Connor held vanished as their eyes met. Dark eyes, tired but still alight with musical energy, blinked at him. His glasses had slipped down from the collision, hanging off the end of his shining nose; his entire face was slick with perspiration. Connor had the preposterous drunk thought of licking up his jaw line and tasting his skin, the salty sweat there. 

“Um, no worries,” he pushed his glasses up to rest more comfortably on his nose, eyes widening as a flash of recognition reflected through the frames.

“Oh hey, you’re my biggest fan!” A huge smile followed and Connor thought he felt himself pop a boner.

After checking to make sure his nose wasn’t bleeding, Connor removed his hand and straightened up.

“What?” He asked, elated that the man was smiling at him but genuinely clueless in his drunken stupor.

“Yeah, I see you every night at that table,” he gestured vaguely. Connor felt his neck heat up, trying but failing to keep his cool.

“Ah, yeah what can I say, I really enjoy… uh, you- your music,” a hand unconsciously rubbed the back of Connor’s neck, something he used to do as a teenager when he got nervous. “It’s nice.” He finished lamely.

The smile remained, and possibly got wider as Connor spoke. The man chuckled lightly, looking away for a moment before meeting Connor’s eyes again.

A beat passed and Connor finally took a wobbly step forward, removing his hand from his neck and extending it.

“My name’s Connor, by the way. Need you to remember it for later.” Connor’s eyes widened when he realized what he just said. It wasn’t that it was a bad line, it was a great line (thank you _very much_ , Michaela), but it was completely out of left field, and Connor didn’t know if this guy was even gay-

But then the piano player laughed, out right _laughed_ and Connor felt himself relax, cracking his usual smirk.

“Wow, okay,” the man breathed out, checking out Connor once more, making it obvious what he was doing. Connor shuddered.

“Oliver,” said man took Connor’s hand in his, squeezing hard as both men gave a firm, single shake, but not releasing the hold just yet.

 _Big hands, big hands, big_ fucking _hands_ … Connor’s hazy brain repeated, his lips parting slightly, pulse quickening with every second Oliver kept his hand clasped with his.

After an agonizing moment of staring, Connor finally spoke up, a rasp in his voice,

“Wanna get out of here?”

Oliver nodded and led them out the back door he was originally headed to, hands never disconnecting.


	2. "All I wanted was to make you happy..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G. Canon up to S2 finale. Connor and Oliver are broken up, Connor angsts.

Connor sat in the middle of his living room, going through old files, paperwork, letters… piles of paper scattered in a circle around him on the floor as he sorted from several bins he had pulled out of the depths of his closet.

Old bills, credit card statements, articles he had printed or torn out of newspapers… the usual clutter. Connor grinned wearily as he came across his acceptance letter into Middleton, quickly tossing it into the “to-shred” pile without a second glance.

The years had gone by fast, despite the horrors he put up with at Middleton. Three years of unending chaos, stress and heartache had faded into a single, hazy memory that was just another part of his past. Then five more years on top of that, working for a law firm before branching out, freelancing as a defense lawyer, experiencing horrifying PTSD and finding a doctor to work through it… working for Annalise had indeed been an educational internship, it taught him how he couldn’t stand the law, it taught him distrust and that dependency was a sign of weakness. Everything about defending, whether it was for someone innocent or not, made Connor’s stomach churn. What he used to consider fun and exciting as a 23-year old first year law student, now made him anxious and angry at age 30, emotions he knew weren’t healthy for a man his age.

So he was leaving. 

Philadelphia just didn’t do it for him anymore. There were too many memories here, too many people who knew his darkest secrets and who would remind Connor of that darkness every time he looked at them. He was going to New York, where the loud streets and bright lights would hopefully distract him from his own memories and keep him busy enough to keep his mind focused on work.

Connor stretched his legs out, pressing his feet flat against a moving box full of books as he opened another plastic bin to sort out, mumbling along to the quiet music coming out of his TV.

He lifted the lid off the bin and froze, coming face-to-face with an old photograph, atop a huge pile of miscellaneous papers, of Oliver and him.

Connor closed his eyes, trying to block out the sudden images that came crashing against his skull: smiles and glares, desperate screaming and pleasant groaning, doctors visits and tear-stained cheeks.

He sighed as he opened his eyes, Connor could never suppress Oliver, the only person who ever unconditionally loved him, who had always been there to listen and give advice, warranted or not. Oliver, who he tried so hard to protect… even if it did mean letting Oliver leave, walk out of his life without putting up a fight.

“ _You’ve ruined my only way out, Oliver,” Connor paced, a panicked edge in his voice, running his hand through his hair over and over. “Don’t you get that? Stanford was going to be a new life for us-”_

“ _You mean a new life for you!” Oliver spat, taking Connor off-guard. “I don’t want to move! I never agreed to this, you made this decision for the both of us, just assuming that I’d go along with it.”_

 _Connor paused for only a second. “That doesn’t mean you_ impersonate _me and_ delete _my acceptance email! You should have talked to me about it-”_

_Oliver’s eyes widened comically, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “Oh, like you’re always so willing to talk about- whatever horrible thing you did. Cryptically bringing up hints only to drop the conversation…”_

_Connor was shaking his head, an uneasy grin on his face. He opened his mouth but Oliver interrupted him._

“ _Why don’t you trust me?” Oliver pleaded, hands outstretched. This argument had been going in circles for the past half hour. He was tired and Connor was visibly uncomfortable, frustrated._

“ _I do trust you,” Connor’s head snapped up, his shining eyes full of truth and nose red, keeping back tears since this argument started. “You’re the only person I trust right now…”_

_Oliver stepped forward, noticing Connor cave into himself slightly, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching forward._

“ _Then tell me,” Oliver’s voice softened, rough from hollering at each other. He bent down slightly to force Connor to meet his eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”_

_Connor shook his head, bringing a hand up to rub the back to his neck and turning away from Oliver._

“ _Connor…” Oliver started._

“ _No,” Connor’s voice broke._

“ _Connor,” Oliver said sternly._

_Connor shook his head again. “You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t…” Connor trailed off. “You’d leave.”_

_Oliver had sighed loudly, dropping his head back and dragging his hands over his face up into his hair line, leveling Connor with a hard stare as silence filled the room._

_Finally Oliver spoke softly, so soft that Connor barely head him,_

“ _If you don’t tell me I will leave.”_

And he did.

He watched Oliver walk out of his apartment, feeling like his insides were collapsing, his heart going still. Connor had wrapped his arms around himself and fallen to the floor, trying to keep himself together as the world around him spun and fell apart.

He had never even gone back to Oliver’s apartment to get his stuff. Toothbrush still in the cup in the bathroom, books on the coffee table, clothes left scattered on the bedroom floor. Oliver never asked him to get anything either.

His left arm unconsciously wrapped around his middle as Connor lifted the photo from the bin, bringing his knees up to rest his chin atop of as he studied the picture. Oliver had been getting into photography and had borrowed a DSLR camera from a friend, taking a variety of pictures from nature, people, objects, and Connor.

He smiles remembering how he would wake up in the morning to the sound of the shutter flip in the camera and Oliver trying to not-so-subtly hide the camera from him.

The picture before Connor now was a tightly framed selfie, Oliver’s outstretched arm holding the camera out, capturing one large, toothy smile and a closed mouth grin. They were outside on a pier at the water-front. Connor had nestled his head against Oliver’s neck, a coffee cup grasped in his hand.

Out of curiosity Connor picked up his phone, checking his contacts and finding Oliver’s name. His heart rate suddenly intensified, pounding in his ears. He remembered now, he hadn’t bothered deleting Oliver from his phone in the hopes of… maybe some day…

It had been so long now though… he could have changed his number. Or worse yet, kept Connor on his phone too, so if he had called, Oliver would see the name which he affiliated to the worst part of his life and deliberately ignore him, no need to answer the phone to find out who it was.

Connor dropped the phone, sighing and letting his head fall to rest on his knees. He waited until a new song started up before peeking at the photograph one more time before gently placing it in the “to-keep” pile.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Connor had everything shoved into his apartment in lower Manhattan, enough boxes and furniture to fit in his SUV became a crowded maze in the small space. He sighed tiredly as he grabbed a single bottle of rum (a going away gift from Michaela) from his backpack and poured himself a generous shot, shooting it back, grimacing, and filling the glass again.

He collapsed to the floor ungracefully in front of a the box… the one he knew he had that picture of Oliver and him.

Taking a sip of the brown liquid, Connor tore open the box, rummaging around the files and folders and case-studies before pulling out the glossy picture.

He scooted backwards, leaning back against another box as he unashamedly stared, studying every line, every blemish, every hair on Oliver’s face. How his brown eyes shone a lighter, caramel color in the daylight. Dark eyebrows bushy and untamed, arched high in delight despite the glare from the sun.

Connor downed the rest of his drink, enjoying the burn down his throat and in his empty stomach. He taped his fingers against the empty glass, brows narrowing as he wasted time on the floor, stroking the picture with his thumb and allowing all the memories, pleasant and terrifying, to engulf his mind.

Before he could change his mind, Connor whipped his phone out, finding Oliver’s name, and hitting the Call button.

He held his breath as he listened to the ringing, heart smashing against his rib cage, almost fast enough to cause pain. With every ring Connor thought about hanging up, his mouth going dry, his palms becoming clammy.

He was about to do it too, Connor had convinced himself this was a terrible idea, when the fourth ring was interrupted by a smooth, low voice that made Connor’s body simultaneously run cold with nerves and warm with old affection.

“ _Hello?_ ” Oliver spoke on the other line, curiosity obvious in his tone. Connor slipped his eyes shut. He had deleted Connor from his phone.

He didn’t know what to say. Connor hadn’t planned anything, he just wanted to hear Oliver’s voice again.

Connor’s mouth hung open, wanting to say something, anything, but nothing was coming out. He dropped the photo and brought that hand to cover his eyes, chin falling to his chest.

“ _… Who’s this_?” Oliver tried again. Connor took a shaky breath, preparing himself to speak but again, nothing came out. His mind was blank, tears started falling behind his hand.

A quiet sigh came from the other end of the phone, it sounded annoyed. Connor removed his hand to stare straight ahead.

“ _I’m hanging up now-_ ”

“All I ever wanted was to make you happy,” Connor choked out, soft and broken. He was taken aback by his own words, but it was true. He let Oliver go because, in the end, he knew it was for the best. He knew he had to stop being selfish and put Oliver first… because he loved him… he still did. Oliver didn’t need the drama, the pain Connor brought to him and his innocent life. Oliver was Connor’s life line, but it was ruining their relationship and affecting Oliver in the worst way.

A deafening silence stretched on for what felt like minutes, or hours. Connor almost had the terrifying thought that Oliver had hung up when,

“ _… Connor?_ ”

It was a small, soft response that made Connor gasp wetly, pathetically. He gripped the phone with both hands, holding onto it for dear life.

“Hi… Ollie.”


	3. "Stop stringing me along."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G. Friends to lovers.

They had first met in middle school. Oliver was putting books in his locker when the door suddenly slammed shut with a metallic snap, he had just barely brought his hands in fast enough to save them from being smashed in.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut as the perpetrator spun him around by the shoulder, shoving the boy up against the locker. He was going on about something, Oliver could barely remember, the bullies in grade school were numerous and unoriginal, spitting something about _nerd_ or _fag,_ followed either by a shove or a kick in the knees. Sometimes it was garbage hurled at him in the halls and sometimes it was playing Monkey in the Middle at recess; some douchebag swiping Oliver’s glasses from his face to toss back and forth to someone else while Oliver desperately, shamefully, would try to reach up and grab them back.

Oliver couldn’t recall exactly what the bully was going on about, but he does remember how a body slammed into the greasy upperclassman, taking him to the floor and leaving Oliver to blink in stunned silence, staring at the empty space where his attacker had been moments before.

When his eyes had traveled down that’s when he saw him, Connor Walsh, a 5th grader with a violent reputation, pinning the high school guy to the dirty tiles. It would have been a hilarious sight, a boy straddling a teenager half his size, if Connor wasn’t beating the shit out of him.

“You saved my life,” Oliver had told Connor, waiting by the principle’s office for when the boy would come out.

Connor had scoffed, attitude entirely too cool for a 5thgrader. “No big deal.”

They had become inseparable since then. Oliver at first thinking he had only acquired a tiny body guard before Connor started showing up at his house with the newest video games and an extra controller (that one time when he found out Oliver only had one N64 controller). Sleepovers with blanket forts, reading from flash lights, and helping with each other’s homework (note: Oliver helping Connor with his homework).

High school was slightly better in terms of bullies, they still liked to tease Oliver, but it never got to be a problem any more. Although Connor’s attitude problem had faded, he was still one of the most intimidating students in his class, and by 10th grade one of the most popular, thanks to a stunning and completely unfair growth spurt.

It was while Oliver was a senior that he realized he had fallen in love with his best friend.

Through high school and the years to come, Connor had left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, Oliver’s included (though Connor would never know, until today). Ten years after Connor graduated high school and Oliver was finally done being silent.

“Please… just stop stringing me along.”

Oliver was two years older than Connor, but right now he felt so much younger, smaller, inferior. Connor was his best friend, the person he could go to for anything, the man who knew the details of his first relationship and subsequent breakup. Connor, who was there for him when Oliver came out to his parents and stayed with him for a full weekend after they filed for a divorce several years later.

Oliver also never stopped looking after Connor. Quick to agree to be his wingman in bars (not that he needed one, Connor just liked the company before he left with someone else), quick to offer his couch when the stress of law school became too much, quick to utilize his masters degree in computer software and engineering to illegally hack into emails and servers, quick to drop to his knees and suck Connor’s dick…

During college they had started sleeping together, starting with a drunken accident that escalated from there. They never talked about it and Oliver never brought it up. He was afraid of what would happen, what was sure to happen; Connor leaving him for good.

Connor looked over at him. They were at Oliver’s apartment watching a movie that Oliver hadn’t been paying attention to.

“Please… just stop stringing me along,” he had whispered, mostly to himself, but Connor heard anyway.

“What does that mean?” Connor asked, perplexed. Oliver sighed, his head falling into his open palm.

Because Connor Walsh didn’t do love, feelings, or even boyfriends. Just the thought of commitment made Connor’s skin crawl and for the life of him Oliver didn’t understand why. He had known Connor most of his life, been around to watch Connor smirk and stare at countless men, leading them into a trap of one night stands or quickies. There never was a boyfriend, someone to tie him down, Connor ran through men much like the cups of coffee he’d drink every day; something delicious to give him a quick boost and he was set until the next morning.

And it was driving Oliver mad. Connor, notorious heart throb with a smirk sharp enough to cut, slept with Oliver not once, not twice, but _constantly_ since that drunken night so many years ago. Connor never slept with the same man twice. And that wasn’t just an observation, it was something Connor would work into conversations, like he was proud of it. Oliver wondered if he kept a notebook full of his victim’s names, like a serial killer.

Oliver shook his head, still resting in his hand as he spoke to the floor. “You know what it means.”

The closest term Oliver could use to describe their… relationship was “friends with benefits,” but it was hardly beneficial when Oliver had to bite his tongue every time they fucked, to not cry out his true feelings for the younger man, to not hold him close afterward, squeeze him tight so he wouldn’t run off.

Connor was silent, the sounds from the TV becoming background noise.

“You mean…” Connor cleared his throat. “Us sleeping together?”

“Yes, us sleeping together,” Oliver brought his head up to stare incredulously at his friend, defeat in his eyes. “What the fuck are we doing?”

Connor kind of laughed, his eyes darting around, not meeting Oliver’s. “We’re having sex, it’s not a big deal-”

“It’s a huge deal!” Oliver snapped, sitting up and turning fully to face Connor. “You can’t just…” Oliver’s bravado faded slightly. “Sleep with your best friend and expect nothing to happen…”

It took a moment of agonizing silence but Oliver’s words took hold in Connor, who finally looked at him, eyes unreadable.

“You mean…?” Connor prompted, fingers touching a throw pillow. “What, exactly?”

“You know what,” Oliver answered again, softly. They may be grown adults with full time jobs in their respected careers but talking about their feelings was still difficult, for some stupid reason and Oliver had had enough.

But because Oliver knew his friend, he decided to spare Connor the love confession, just going with,

“We need to stop doing this.”

Connor’s fingers tightened around the threads of the pillow, pulling it up to hug against his chest. Oliver almost smiled at that, it was something Connor would do as a teenager when he got upset or scared, he’d never grown out of it.

“Because you love me?” Connor stated more than asked, flicking his eyes down.

Oliver sighed, running a hand through his hair. Why was Connor dragging this out? There were a few men in the past who would get angry or sad after Connor left them, some who flat out said they liked him and asked for a drink later. These were the men Connor would whine about, showing Oliver the unanswered texts on his phone, like it was such a bother, before deleting their number.

At Oliver’s silence Connor spoke up, a tremor in his voice.

“… I love you, too.”

Oliver’s brows shot up, his heart stuttering before kicking back up for a mile run.

“What?” He leaned toward Connor slightly, unable to believe his ears.

Connor clutched the pillow tighter, still staring at the couch cushion.

“ I love you too, and it scares me cos… cos I don’t know what to do about it,” his mouth hung open, unsure noises coming out before shaking his head and continuing. “And I don’t even know if this is love I-I mean,” he shrugged, coughing out a brief, humorless laugh.

“I don’t know what I feel, really,” Connor finally dragged his head up, watching Oliver’s panicked expression. “What I do know is, I love being your friend, having you around makes me happy… it calms me down…”

Oliver exhaled through his nose, afraid to open his mouth. His fingers itched to touch Connor, close the gap between them, pull him to his chest so he could hear Oliver’s erratic heart.

“Also you’re amazing in bed,” Connor finished, throwing his trademark grin at Oliver, who laughed despite himself, finally relaxing, letting his body slouch forward, taking everything about Connor in.

A beat passed between them.

“Can I…?” Before Oliver could finish Connor had leaned forward, meeting Oliver halfway as their hands mutually sought each other out, pulling each other in for a soft, but not hesitant, kiss.

Kissing was something they were used to, before sex and during, never afterward though. Never if it didn’t lead somewhere hot and heavy. This was nothing like those kisses. This was careful, soft, but desperate enough to move quickly. Lips pressing with an urgency that wiped Oliver’s mind of any doubt that Connor didn’t feel something for him, whether is was affection, admiration, or love.

Connor’s jaw dropped in a stuttered gasp, his fingers pressing hard on the nape of Oliver’s neck. Their lips barely disconnected, brushing teasingly as moist air passed between them. An electric current zipped down Oliver’s spine, reaching his toes before shooting back up the hairs on his head, causing him to shudder pleasantly.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you through all this,” Connor rasped, touching his nose to Oliver’s as his eyes slipped shut. “For never considering your feelings.”

“Apology accepted,” Oliver breathed, tugging Connor in for another kiss, lips opening naturally this time, caressing one another to the point of frustration, lips moving in sync with each tilt and readjustment.

A pact was made that night, after Connor and Oliver had exhausted themselves in bed, that from then on the two would be completely honest with each other, even if it meant dealing with a painful aftermath. Because that’s what boyfriends do, they talk, they are honest, they are trustworthy.

“So, you’re my boyfriend now,” Connor spoke, panting, his pupils blown wide and marvelous.

Oliver tried one of Connor’s smirks, rolling on top to straddle him, unable to resist running his hands up that naked chest once more, wet and firm, before resting on Connor’s shoulders, bringing his head down to touch his forehead to Connor’s.

“Yeah, finally.”


	4. Insecurity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Oliver is insecure and Connor worships him fic. This is one of my least favorites, going back. rereading it made me cringe. But I feel obligated to post it here anyway. Rated T.

“Stop…” Connor pulled on Oliver’s arm, he was rising out of bed.

Oliver let himself be tugged back to the bed, eyes on Connor.

“Why?”

Connor reached his other arm around, turning to lay sideways, so he had both hands full of Oliver.

“Because I want to see you.”

Oliver sighs, his naked body snuggling once more against Connor’s, skin on skin, limbs tangled, eyes glancing.

It was something Oliver was getting used to, having sex with someone so unashamedly beautiful. When he was younger he liked to cover up, at least his privates, immediately after sex. No one ever stopped him, so it became ingrained in Oliver, this self conscious attitude of promptly getting dressed, hiding his body, ashamed of it. He didn’t- couldn’t flaunt it, like Connor.

The first time Oliver rose from the bed, still in a haze of post coital pleasure, Connor raised an eyebrow at it, not commenting while Oliver slipped his boxer shorts back on before flopping back onto the blankets. Connor did, however, show his disapproval by yanking them back off and preparing Oliver for round two.

Connor managed to dissuade him most nights, wrapping his arms around the older man to prevent him from leaving, showering him with compliments and touches. Oliver would hum, clear in his tone and mannerisms that he didn’t believe Connor, and it drove the lawyer beyond crazy.

Because Oliver was gorgeous. His skin, sun kissed and soft, even stretched around muscle. His arms, thick and strong, perfectly shaped and corded. Connor dragged his fingers down Oliver’s bicep now, traveling further to his forearm before lifting his wrist carefully, lacing their fingers together.

Oliver watched, half sitting up as Connor inspected his arm. He pulled their linked hands so Oliver collapsed over him, huffing out a laugh which made Connor smile widely.

“Do me a favor?” Connor asked softly, moving to hover over his boyfriend, causing him to flop on his back.

“What?” Oliver adjusted himself to lay more comfortably.

Connor ran a hand up Oliver’s stomach to his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed.

“Just stay naked,” Connor grinned at Oliver’s eye roll.

“C'mon, Connor,” Oliver almost whined and Connor almost rolled his eyes too. “It’s embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing?” Connor asked seriously, smile gone. Oliver cast his eyes down, frowning.

He didn’t have a response. Wasn’t it obvious? Because Connor was… perfect. He had the American Dream equivalent of what constituted an attractive man: sharp square jaw, body toned and athletic, but not overly muscular. Thick dark hair, pretty face but still masculine. Gorgeous eyes, award-winning smile, straight teeth… with a stunning personality to match.

“Look at me,” Connor broke Oliver’s train of thought.

“I am,” Oliver replied softly, staring down Connor’s body, past his stomach, hips, penis, legs, ankles, feet.

His vision was suddenly invaded by brown eyes… and hair. Oliver tried to blink the strands away but Connor wasn’t moving.

“Connor-”

“Look at _me,”_ Connor repeated, a little desperate. “Look at my eyes, I want you to see the way I see you; the way the world sees you.”

He backed off then, slightly, his face sad. Oliver sighed, sinking further into the mattress.

“You are phenomenal.”

“Connor-”

“You are fucking perfect,” Connor continued, nipping Oliver’s bottom lip when he closed his eyes.

Connor swung a leg over, straddling Oliver and sitting up fully. Oliver watched warily, his hands naturally resting over Connor’s thighs. His eyes locked with Connor’s and they stared at each other, long and maybe a little awkward, but Oliver had conceded. He studied Connor’s eyes in the limited light of their bedroom, how dark they were, intense and sure, and full of bottled up emotion.

No one ever looked at Oliver the way Connor did, full of honesty and love, real love. Nothing ever had to be said between them to convey a message. And although he knew Connor loved him and wanted him, Oliver honestly couldn’t understand _why._ Why him, awkward, shy, Asian man pushing 30 with small eyes, thick eyebrows, thin lips and sensitive skin that turned red after one glass of wine. Why all of that versus… _this,_ Connor Walsh.

Connor started drawing invisible patterns on Oliver’s stomach and up his chest, making the man twitch at the slight tickle. His fingers splayed out, laying his palm flat against Oliver’s sternum.

“Our bodies are the same, you know?” Connor started, moving his gaze from Oliver’s eyes to his wandering hands.

“It’s all just,” he brought his other hand up to massage Oliver’s chest and ribs, “color value and shapes… dips and impressions,” he tickled a rib and Oliver cracked a smile, flinching away. “And what we see every day, what we’re raised around… what we hear and see influence what we _think_ is attractive, most appealing to our eyes.”

Oliver’s eyes flicked up to meet Connor’s.

“Getting philosophical on me now. Are you a lawyer or a hippie?”

Connor cracked a grin at that. “All I’m saying is, when other people look at you, they do not see what you see in the mirror. They see a tall, handsome man with glasses and nice hair, wearing a suit. You look important, you look busy, and smart.” Connor raised an eyebrow playfully.

Oliver brought his hands up to rest behind his head.

“What do you see?”

“I see…” Connor slipped down some, sitting so their groins touched, “everything,” he finished simply.

A beat passed before Oliver snorted, rolling his eyes up to consider the ceiling.

“Cop out,” he said humorously.

“No, it’s true,” Connor insisted, “you are everything for me. I’ve never felt like this in my life…”

Oliver believed that. This whole episode was so unlike Connor. He hardly ever expressed his feelings, let alone so seriously, with furious passion in his tone.

“Do you know how crazy you sound right now?” Oliver sat up, propping himself up on his hands to face Connor.

“Do you know how crazy you look when you try to hide yourself?”

“I thought you said all bodies are the same?” Oliver countered, feeling a bit more comfortable in this strange discussion but wondering where it would lead.

“Technically yes,” Connor nodded, hands still dancing around Oliver’s skin. “But forgetting the fact that your body is psychically the best in the world-”

A scoff.

“- and all other vanity aside,” Connor leaned forward, touching his forehead to Oliver’s, “I’ve never met someone as honest, as loyal, as funny and smart, and tender as you. Everything you do excites me, every word you say intrigues me, and every time you look at me I get so fucking horny.”

Oliver cracked a grin at that, despite how his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Connor’s eyes burned into his and it was making Oliver forget how to breathe.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Connor whispered, moving his lips up Oliver’s jaw line to his ear and down his neck, placing gentle kisses as he went.

“Know that I love you. I can’t stand seeing you belittle yourself because whatever you’re thinking, it’s simply not true.”

Oliver tilted his head, exposing more of his neck as Connor’s kisses became harder, with added teeth. He didn’t trust his voice to respond, Oliver swallowed a lump in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut.

“And I’ll keep on telling you until you believe it: you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, I love being a part of your life, and I’m fucking crazy in love with you.”


	5. It's an egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omg going down memory lane is not as fond as I thought it would be. wtf is this...
> 
> Rated G.

“It’s just an egg, Ollie-”

“It’s not _just_ an egg! This is our baby!” Oliver cried, cradling the egg to his chest. Connor gave him a look like he’d lost his mind.

“Ollie, I don’t care what Mr. Keating says. Taking care of an egg is definitely not the same as a real baby.” Connor waved the pan in an arc above his head, eye brows raised so high they began disappearing into his hairline.

Oliver glared, actually patting the egg comfortingly.

“I bet it has two yolks in it…” Connor trailed off, setting the pan back on the stove top.

“He is a big boy,” Oliver said proudly.

Connor rolled his eyes. “Stop giving the food pronouns!”

“It’s a boy and his name is James!”

“Oh my God,” Connor shook his head, throwing his hands up in defeat and walking up to Oliver, who shrunk back, hunching over the egg much like a mother hen.

“Leave him alone, Connor!”

“Relax, dad,” Connor grinned, ignoring Oliver’s grumbling. “Are we married or is James out of wedlock?”

That made Oliver pause.

“Uh… we got married when we found out you were pregnant,” Oliver absolutely beamed.

Connor’s smile dropped. “Why am I the mom?”

“Well,” Oliver’s toothy grin turned sly. “You are making me breakfast… woman.”

“I’m definitely eating this dumb egg now.” Connor tackled Oliver.


	6. Angry makeout sesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M-ish

Something had happened between Connor barging into his apartment angrily, between him yelling about who _knows what_ and Oliver’s vision going red with anger, shoving Connor against the nearest wall with a _bang_ , just to show the younger man how pissed off he was. It was meant to elicit a reaction, to show Connor that he was sick and tired of this constant negativity between them, and that Connor had finally made Oliver use force.

Something had happened between all that and now, Oliver’s hands on Connor’s biceps, gripping harshly, pinning him vertically. Something that made Oliver forget what they were even fighting about as his piercing gaze dropped to Connor’s lips, the motion of a tongue swiping out of his mouth catching his eye, after Connor groaned harshly from the impact. Oliver blinked, distracted, their breathing labored from yelling was suddenly loud and intoxicating in his ears.

Connor was still glaring at Oliver when their eyes met again, but there was a different kind of fire behind that stare, something urgent and needy, something that struck a chord in Oliver, sending that familiar jolt of arousal through his body.

Before another second passed Oliver surged forward, capturing Connor’s lips fast and hard, a muffled moan breaking the tension as Connor’s hands moved to the back of Oliver’s head, pressing themselves uncomfortably close as he kissed back.

Their breathing was harsh and loud, catching a ragged inhale every chance their lips broke apart for a quick change, for a tongue to dart out, for teeth to bite and pull.

Oliver’s hands moved down, rough and needy as he yanked Connor’s shirt from his slacks. Lips messily keeping together as he gripped the material around his collar, blind with want and too impatient to deal with buttons, when Connor growled against his mouth.

“You rip this shirt and I swear to God…” he stumbled out. Oliver’s mouth moved to his neck, latching on to a sensitive spot underneath Connor’s ear, exposing his teeth and biting at the delicious moan from above.

“What?” Oliver surprised himself with his tone, low and husky. He began pulling at the shirt, testing the buttons resistance.

Connor’s hands moved from Oliver’s face to his shoulders, spinning them around and thrusting Oliver against the wall, making the older man lose his breath in a cough, head bouncing against the hard surface. Connor advanced on him, one hand wrapping around the back of his neck to reconnect the kiss and the other taking Oliver through his pants, palming the obvious erection there, making Oliver choke on his moan, a garbled sound in Connor’s mouth.

“ _Uhn_ , fuck you,” Oliver gasped, automatically sucking Connor’s tongue in when it was slipped into his mouth.

Connor’s lips curled in his you-could-cut-yourself-with-that smirk, disconnecting their lips with a wet smack to nip Oliver’s ear, following it as he flinched away.

“I intend to,” he purred.


	7. Sharing a bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A classic trope! Rated G

It was a legendary field trip that the kids talked about in school constantly: Mr. Hampton’s 7th grade biology field trip to Sea World that had been going on smoothly for the past 6 years without a hitch (thanks to parents always generously donating around the time to plan the trip came). Usually there were still some budget cuts, but they always managed to figure it out.

This year, for instance, they could only afford three hotel rooms, which meant 8 kids per room (sorry guest services, you’re always so kind to us) and three teachers/chaperon for the other: Mr. Hampton, Mr. Walsh, and Ms. Winterbottom, the chaperon.

After all the kids had been settled down for the evening and they returned to their hotel rooms for rest, Oliver had to finally face the issue presented to the adults, all three of them, and two twin size beds.

There was no argument; of course Oliver and Connor (the P.E. teacher) would share a bed. They were mature adults who’ve been working under the same building for years now, they could handle sleeping together in close quarters.

Or so Oliver tried to convince himself.

It had been hard falling asleep that night, his body hyper aware of the warmth that was Connor Walsh just behind him, but he had, somehow. Waking up was another problem altogether.

He opened his eyes to a thin white t-shirt and firm chest, his arms curled up between them and legs tangled under the covers. Oliver stopped breathing, realization crashing hard and fast that he was snuggled up against Connor, his head tucked under his chin and… wait, were those arms wrapped around his middle?

Oliver glanced down, noticing indeed that he was laying on top of a long tan arm and there was another one draped lazily across his hips, holding him in like a bear trap.

Oliver attempted to control his breathing, which had grown shallow and a little panicky.

No matter Connor was gorgeous and fit and smart, with an award winning smile that made moms (and dads sometimes) visibly wobble when struck the devilish grin. No matter Oliver had a stupid, school-boy crush on Connor for these reasons and more, because they _worked_ together and what was happening right now was completely inappropriate, no matter how much Oliver wanted to let go of his inhibitions and close the remaining space between their bodies, press his chest to Connor’s just to feel the outline of his abs against his, Connor’s pelvis slotting against his own, thighs touching.

Oliver finally chanced a look up, past Connor’s delicious stubbled neck and protruding Adams apple to watch his sleeping face, eyes closed, brows relaxed, breathing even. Oliver audibly caught his breath at how stunning the younger teacher was, his usually perfectly gelled hair mussed and flopped over every which way, his skin soft and slightly plump, not a wrinkle in sight. Connor’s lips were parted slightly, exhaling out of them and making a small snore each time, causing Oliver to smile fondly.

He finally relaxed again, noticing the room cast in a blue glow; the sun hadn’t risen yet so no need to panic about the time. Oliver didn’t take his eyes away from Connor’s face though, content to remember this moment, this warmth, until he woke up and they’d have to face the consequences of their actions, but for now, this was nice.


	8. High school AU role reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is the shy one. Rated G

Some people liked eyes, the color or the emotion behind them, how they looked with a smile or frown. Some people would say hair attracts them first, how thick and full it is, how it lays naturally or how it’s styled. These were nice attributes that Connor would consider later, but what he immediately looked for, what he would be attracted to first in another guy, were his arms.

Arms were strong, packed with muscle that sometimes couldn’t be contained and curved up and down like hills, ready to flex in a brawl or crush in a full body hug. Connor loved how the skin there was clean and smooth in color, sometimes with spots of freckles and little hairs. He also included hands with his fascination: large hands with sharp knuckles and long fingers, God yes.

One particular pair of arms Connor obsessed over were Oliver Hampton’s, a senior and current hero of the school’s varsity track team. Oliver had the biceps of a swimmer: they were thick and corded, but lean, not huge and awkward. His forearms had a stretch of muscle that flowed down from his biceps, accenting his dark, caramel colored skin decorated in thin brown hairs. Oliver’s hands, finally, were big, some veins protruding from the top, disappearing into his knuckles where his fingers stretched out. Connor imagined Oliver played piano.

But Connor would only observe, stare carefully at Oliver and his perfect arms whenever they would pass in the hallway or when he went to sporting events at school (only to see Oliver, Connor wasn’t a fan of sports) to watch Oliver race down the track, arms pumping rhythmically, taut and thicker from the exertion… never mind his legs; calves and thighs ready to burst from his skin (thank you Jesus for track shorts). Connor would bite his lip hard to keep himself from popping a boner in public. The best part of watching Oliver run, besides his stressed out muscles and long limbs, was seeing him sweat. The beads of moisture trailing down from his hairline to his neck and disappearing into his shirt. Or the speckles of sweat that the skin on Oliver’s arms created, like a fine mist had landed there, it made his skin shine, glisten. Connor hated sweat, hated on himself, feeling it, and definitely smelling it, and if he found it to be down right _sexy_ on Oliver Hampton, then he figured he was kind of in love with the guy.

Only problem, Oliver was popular. Like, was guaranteed to make it into the high school year book superlatives as “Best Smile, Nicest Car, Most Likely to Become President…” probably all the ‘Bests’, actually. Connor wouldn’t even be thought of during those votes.

Unless there was an award for, “Biggest Collection of Dead Bugs,” or “Most Likely to Come Out of the Closet at the Wrong Time,” because Connor was about to come out… to Oliver. Winter had just ended and Oliver would be leaving for college so he figured, now or never.

Connor thought he was having a panic attack, waiting by Oliver’s locker. What was he thinking? He couldn’t do this! Oliver was not only an upperclassman and one of the most popular guys in school, but Connor didn’t even know if he was gay! Although Oliver did give off signs that he was… certainly not straight. Like the lack of girlfriends, the way he stood in a lineup with the track team (one hip cocked out, gaze lingering oddly on the other guys), or just… how he pushed his hand through his hair. Don’t ask Connor how that made Oliver gay, it was just _one of those things_.

While Connor was having an internal freak out, he failed to miss Oliver walk up to his locker, giving Connor a look, probably wondering why someone was hanging out by his locker.

“Hey, are you waiting for someone…?” Oliver asked, causing Connor to whip his head up, pupils dilating from surprise and obvious attraction.

“Uh… kind of, yeah,” Connor looked to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He had a crazed, nervous smile on that he was trying to hide from Oliver.

Oliver was silent as he replaced his books for different ones. Connor took that time to compose himself, standing up straight and giving his hip a little pinch, he opened his mouth to speak, but Oliver beat him to it.

“Connor, right?”

And anything Connor had planned on saying vanished in a poof of cartoon smoke.

Because Oliver knew his name.

“Uh, y-yeah. How do you-”

“We shared gym last year,” Oliver explained in a smile, closing his locker and fixing Connor with the kindest eyes he’d ever seen.

Eyes were definitely Connor’s second favorite physical feature. Oliver’s were brown, a darker brown than his, almost black. But they somehow shone and reflected light, maybe it was the way his skin would wrinkle around his eyes when he smiled widely. Connor had seen the smile before, the eye crinkles, but never directed at him. He felt his legs wobbling.

And he obviously remembered Oliver from gym class, that was the year his infatuation with the senior started. Sharing a locker room with him was heaven and hell for 171 long, glorious days.

“Oh, right,” Connor grinned, letting his embarrassment show. He didn’t think Oliver would remember him. Why would he?

Oliver leaned sideways against the locker, a quiet moment passed between them.

“So, who are you waiting for?” Oliver asked.

“Ah,” Connor ran a hand through his hair. He looked up at Oliver and realized also for the first time that Oliver was taller than him. Not by much, maybe a couple inches. He straightened his shoulders and took a breath, preparing himself.

“I know we don’t… talk or know each other really, but,” Connor shoved his hands in his pants pockets, eyes darting to the floor and back up, wanting to at least give Oliver the courtesy of meeting his eyes. _Stop acting like a little girl and just tell him!_ His mind chastised. 

“I-I just wanted to say that, I like you…” Connor broke eye contact after he said it. He balled his hands into fists in his pockets. What a horrible way to say it! So awkward ‘I like you’ who says that? You can’t at least just invite him out on a date first before you drop the bomb? _He’s gonna think you’re a creep now and– oh my God maybe he does think I’m a creep because he’s not saying anything_.

Connor brought his hands back out to wave them around. He was so caught up in his inner ramblings that he failed to distinguish the quiet shock on Oliver’s face was one of awe and giddiness.

“Actually, just kidding!” Connor smiled hugely, fake. Oliver’s eye brows did this confused wrinkle and Connor wanted to die.

“No, I mean– forget it,” Connor felt heat rising up his neck. Was it hot in here? He roughly pushed a hand through his hair, finger getting snagged on a knot and pulling it out with a small yelp. With one last glance at Oliver, Connor turned to run away and never look back, when he felt a hand, a very large, warm hand, grab his wrist.

“Wait, wait,” Oliver said desperately, a hint of humor coloring his tone as he pulled Connor around. “Do you mean that?”

“What?” Connor stared like a deer in headlights, his brained wiped clean because Oliver’s hand was still on his wrist and now they were standing closer than before.

Oliver lowered his voice, almost speaking in a whisper. “That you like me?” He smiled a tiny smile, shy. And Connor felt his insides melt.

He couldn’t find his voice to answer so Connor just nodded, that heat on his neck engulfing his entire face.

Then Oliver’s smile broke free, stretching impossibly wide, the corners of his eyes becoming especially crinkly and his teeth showing brilliantly white in the crappy fluorescent light.

“Well I think you’re cute. Do you want to meet up after school? Get some dinner?”

Connor’s jaw fell, now resembling a fish.

“Y-yeah! That sounds… nice,” Connor closed his mouth, grinning like a lunatic.

The late bell rang and any remaining students in the hall scattered to get to class. Oliver dropped his hold on Connor’s wrist, but before either of them could step away he looked around quickly, taking Connor’s chin and tilting his head to give him a peck on the cheek.

Connor audibly gasped, he wondered if Oliver had felt how hot his face was once he pulled back.

“Meet me at the front entrance after school,” Oliver said, his voice lower than before. Connor tried not to moan at how lovely that sounded.

“Okay.”


	9. Pretend dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU. My only pretend lovers trope! Rated T

It was getting weird.

And by “weird” Oliver meant… _weird_.

He didn’t know Connor Walsh personally, when he propositioned a favor to him a little over a week ago. Oliver only knew he was notorious around campus for getting in on scholarships alone (his grades were unbelievable), how gorgeous he was (and how he used that to his advantage at every turn) and the number of men he slept with, not partners, but _lays_.

And so it was with great fear, but also underlying excitement, that Oliver had tugged him into a corner of the library stacks; floors of towering, dusty books, where most students feared to tread. And introduced himself hastily.

“Hi, do you know me?” Oliver asked, a crazed look in his eyes.

Connor, for his part, was so far taking this better than Oliver imagined. He looked stunned, but it was slowly fading to surprise, curiosity.

“No… would you like me to?” Connor cocked an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth playing upward.

“Yes, actually,” Oliver grinned, licking his lips. Connor gave him a once-over, taking his time checking out certain parts of Oliver’s body. 

They didn’t share any classes, Oliver being a senior this semester and Connor obviously a couple years behind. Remembering when the rumors had started about him, Oliver would say Connor was a sophomore.

Although they had never shared a class, Oliver always managed to catch Connor leaving the Student Union, passing each other as they crossed the Quad every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 2pm. They never said anything, just a quick glance, maybe a nod or smile as they began recognizing one another. Sometimes they bumped shoulders, rushing, Oliver staring at his phone and Connor’s eyes focused straight ahead. But besides quick “hey”s and “sorry, my bad”s, they never tried to connect.

Until now.

“I’m Oliver, and I have a favor to ask.” Oliver wanted to cut right to the chase, before Connor got any other ideas.

Connor had smirked, eyes glinting. It was hot, crazy hot, those lips and that smirk. Oliver pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“Well, Oliver, _I’m_ interested.”

And that’s when Oliver divulged his plan to Connor, to get back at his ex-boyfriend who recently dumped him on the lame excuse of, _“You’re just… boring, Ollie. Safe. We aren’t compatible; I need someone who’s willing to take chances…”_ And of course those words stung, but they also lit a fire under Oliver, a fire to prove him wrong, and make him (Richard) realize what he was missing (and maybe even beg him back, giving Oliver the glorious opportunity to turn _him_ down).

This plan would only succeed if Connor was willing to play along; pretend to be his smoking hot boyfriend who loved public displays of affection, especially if Richard was nearby.

Connor had thought about it, replying with, “What’s in it for me?”

Oliver shrugged. “What do you want?”

Something flashed in Connor’s eyes, his brows lowering in interest. “How about you owe me a favor. I’ll have to think about it. Deal?”

And thus the charade began. It started innocently, holding hands as they walked each other to class and sharing a quick kiss outside the classroom (Oliver shared a few classes with Richard, so he definitely saw what was happening, doing an obvious double take at who Oliver was kissing before he walked past them).

Pecks in the hallway weren’t enough. In time Connor encouraged Oliver to do whatever was necessary to get Richard’s attention, even if it meant randomly pulling Connor out of the crowd in the Quad to initiate a heavy make out session in full view of everyone, before Connor dragged them inside the nearest building, insinuating for anyone watching of much more to happen.

And the kisses were good, _so_ good. Oliver sometimes got so caught up in them that he forgot to check if Richard was still watching, or if he was even nearby (Connor and him would often find a corner to kiss in, even if Richard wasn’t in immediate vision, choosing a room or building section Oliver knew he frequented often, “ _… to not seem so obvious,_ ” Oliver had suggested). Connor wouldn’t stop though, keeping up the act until Oliver forced himself to pull away, forgetting to check his surroundings and instead staring deep into Connor’s eyes, enjoying how dark they were, how heavy his lids fell, creating unmistakable bedroom eyes. They would breathe together, catching their breath, hands still around each other.

“ _Oliver,”_ Connor moaned at one point, lips moving against Oliver’s. “You are definitely… not boring.”

That sentence kept Oliver up at night, his mind racing with the implications of those words. Or fidgeting in class, fingers picking at his lips, tongue swiping out to lick them, teeth biting them. He was becoming antsy for Connor’s touch, like he was addicted to the younger student’s lips and he was going through withdrawal from his kisses.

After a week of Oliver and Connor’s completely inappropriate displays of affection, Oliver got what he wanted; Richard had invited him to a house party he was hosting (“ _And don’t bring your new friend,_ ” he had said). When he told Connor this, he had lit up, grinning from ear-to-ear, mischief clear in his voice when he spoke,

“Oh, I’ll definitely be there.”

And he never left Oliver’s side once they arrived, one arm linked around his hips and the other one holding a drink. And after a few of those drinks, Oliver couldn’t keep his hands to himself, not that Connor seemed to mind.

The alcohol gave Oliver the courage to become even bolder with Connor, grabbing his ass, pinning him against walls, biting his neck… Richard had said he was boring, so he needed to show dominance; explain with his movements (and Connor’s moans) that he was certainly not boring.

“Richard is looking at you,” Connor had gasped softly in Oliver’s ear in the middle of a heavy make out session.

The place was packed with people, it was dark save for a few lamps and Christmas lights decorating the entire house in colorful hues. Oliver had Connor’s back against a closet door, where it was sparse of party-goers.

“Yeah?” Oliver nipped Connor’s ear and relished in the soft whine that came from Connor’s lips. “Play it up.”

“ _Ollie_ ,” Connor groaned in a weak protest. He usually wasn’t the one begging for more, but Oliver needed him to go along with this role reversal.

“Do it,” and with that Oliver drove his hips forward, slotting his pelvis against Connor’s and letting out a true gasp, feeling Connor’s obvious erection through his jeans against his own.

“ _Fuck,_ Connor,” Oliver pulled his head back, catching a fuzzy image of Connor’s face, soft and pink from the booze, open and inviting. He grabbed Connor’s hand, dragging him into the hallway and toward Richard’s room. “C'mere,” he mumbled as he pulled a stumbling Connor along.

Oliver shut the door behind them, grateful that Richard had a lock on his door. When he turned back around, Connor was there, standing, panting, watching him.

Leaning heavily against the door, Oliver swallowed, hard, and he didn’t miss the way Connor’s eyes flicked to the bed and back to him.

An unbearable silence passed between them, Oliver used it to control his breathing, but it didn’t help keep his mind from swimming, images of Connor and him from the past week flying behind his eyes and making him question every decision he had made concerning Connor. He thought about every kiss, every touch, every look, how much _more_ it had all become, how intimate it had all started to feel. Oliver grabbed his hair in mild panic, turning around to face the door and groaning in frustration when he realized he was probably in love with Connor.

“Hey, are you okay?” Conno asked, his voice small.

Oliver sighed, turning with a wry smile.

“We… need to stop this,” he spoke, staring at the floor.

It was getting weird.

Another silence passed. He peeked up to find Connor swaying from side to side, one arm crossing his sternum to hold onto the other in a defensive manner.

“Yeah, I mean, mission accomplished, right? That move you made just now was… pretty hot. Richard won’t think you’re boring anymore,” he forced a smile. The whole image Oliver was witnessing right now was wrong. So unlike the Connor he had gotten to know, physically.

Oliver took a step forward. “It’s not about… Richard, anymore,” he spoke carefully.

Connor’s arms shifted to cross in front of his chest, but he said nothing.

“I didn’t mean to take it this far,” Oliver continued, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t even know I could,” he laughed without humor.

“What are you saying?” Connor asked, his tone teetering on frustration.

Oliver sighed again, nervous. “I think I like you…” he murmured, hesitantly meeting Connor’s eyes, heart pounding at the resulting stare. Connor’s lips had formed a thin line, neutral yet angry looking. His eyes were anything but though; wide and full of interest.

“You think you like me?”

Oliver licked his lips. “Yeah… and I don’t want to pretend anymore… I want to, really kiss you. And I want to take you out for dinner and learn your hobbies, what your favorite music is, and anything else because I… actually _really_ like you.” Oliver popped his knuckles, anxious and shaking like a leaf.

They had a quiet stare down, Connor’s face eventually relaxing after being stuck in that indescribable look. He opened his mouth to speak when there was a series of knocks at the door, making both men jump in surprise.

“Oliver, I know you’re in there!” Richard yelled from behind the door. “You better not be fucking on my bed!”

Oliver rolled his eyes, turning and stepping towards the door, unlocking it and about to pull it open when Connor beat him to it, practically shoving Oliver to the side so he could answer, coming face-to-face with Oliver’s ex.

“Hey!” Oliver blinked at the friendly greeting from Connor, although it was a little manic.

“Sorry, didn’t know this was your room! Glad you stopped us before my boyfriend and I made a mess of it.” Connor spoke with heavy implication, confidently leaning against the door like he owned the place.

Oliver, for his part, stared dumbly. Did Connor just–

“ _You’re_ his boyfriend?” Richard spoke, dubious, craning his neck to look around Connor to see Oliver, who smirked despite himself. He leaned into Connor’s back, slipping his arms around his middle and notching his chin on Connor’s shoulder.

“You sure do move fast,” Richard spat, but he was backing off, eyes constantly darting between the two.

“You were easy to forget,” Oliver replied simply, lacing his fingers with Connor’s and leading them out of the room without another word. He kept his vision forward, missing the glare Connor sent at Richard as they passed by.

They walked out of the house, hand in hand, down the steps and onto the sidewalk before Connor stopped Oliver, tugging him around and locking an arm around his neck to pull him into a soft kiss. It was nothing like the kisses they shared before, rough and a little showy. This was gentle, caressing and intentional.

When they broke apart Oliver was smiling and Connor tapped their noses together. “You can absolutely take me out to dinner. I can’t remember the last time I had a boyfriend, but I’m willing to give it a shot,” he gave a tiny smile. “Besides, you owe me a favor.”

Oliver chuckled, grinning as he responded, “Good,” and going back in to continue the kiss.


	10. Connor watches Oliver work out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of my obsession with long buildups. Oliver runs past Connor's apartment every morning and it becomes Connor's new habit to watch him out his window. Rated T.

It happened while Connor was situating where to put his desk. Moving sucked, but the upside was pretending he was an interior decorator, moving his furniture here and there, figuring out which worn out chair best accented his beat up entertainment system from college, but also matched the color scheme of the room… He’d deny it if you asked, but Connor gave _a lot_ of serious thought to how his living room should best reflect his personality and highlight his traits. For example, his TV was a big, but not showy 40-inch with bookshelves on either side filled with academic, autobiographies, self help, fiction and non-fiction books, hugging the wall nearest the door to proudly display his love of television and reading. His blue couch and cherry wood coffee table (which had a few burn marks from that one crazy party he had in law school) sat close to the entertainment center not just because the apartment was cozy, but to further drive the point home that he enjoyed sitting on that couch and veg out to Netflix.

Connor shoved the desk against the east wall of the living room, right under an open window he had yet to purchase curtains for. He stepped back to admire his symmetry when he spotted a shirtless figure walk into view, stopping directly in front of his apartment, perfectly framed in the tall window. Connor walked up to the desk, laying his hands on the surface to lean over and get a better look.

He was only on the second floor, so the view wasn’t much, just a road with buildings lining the sidewalk. But oh, what a view he was experiencing right now.

The figure was a man, his dark skin glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his face, muscles so pronounced and taut that Connor felt his chest tighten as all the air left his lungs.

Beautiful wasn’t a word Connor typically used to describe people, but this guy was that: beautiful; gorgeous, hotter than hell. Connor felt his nose touch the window screen as he leaned further over his desk, the edge digging into his stomach. He licked his lips as the man turned his head toward the building, a thoughtful look on his face, before taking a deep breath and pulling his arms behind his head, stretching them, then shaking out his fingers before nodding to himself, picking up his feet and continuing to sprint.

Connor turned his head to watch him go and groaned as he got a view of the stranger’s ass, perky and defined even underneath those ugly gray sweatpants.

He stayed there for a moment longer, looking out at the buildings and quiet street. It was 6am, too early to be up and running, let alone unpacking, but Connor was experiencing serious jet lag and somehow that wasn’t putting him to sleep. Connor sighed as he pushed away from the window, not giving the hot guy a second thought as he continued surveying his space options.

A couple days later had Connor waking up before the sun, he was meeting with a new client who was only available in the early morning and he almost denied her case for that reason alone. He had an hour before he had to leave the house, so he wisely spent it brewing a full pot of coffee and nursing it while he sat at his desk, his blanket curled around him and starting up his laptop.

His eyes sleepily drifted to the window, admiring the dark blue the city was cast in. Maybe Connor would be able to see the sunrise before he had to leave. With that thought in mind he set down his coffee mug and leaned across the desk, opening the window and inhaling deeply, the cool morning air clean and crisp in his lungs waking him up a little more.

Connor shifted to sit back down when, out of his peripheral vision, he saw a figure fast approaching; someone on their morning jog. He squinted his eyes and followed the man as he came closer to the building and grinned unconsciously.

It was the same guy from before, the one with the back muscles (which were unfortunately covered today in a sleeveless shirt, which wasn’t so bad, since his strong arms were still exposed) and fantastic ass. Connor leaned down lazily, folding his arms in front and resting his chin on them as he unashamedly stared, the man running right on past, not giving the building Connor was in a second thought.

Connor noticed he had ear buds in today, the wire connecting to the device clutched in his hand flapping around with each contact his sneakers made with the sidewalk. The runner’s mouth had been open slightly, from what Connor could see from up here, panting lightly but clearly not exhausted; facial expression composed and focused. Aside from that he couldn’t make out much more of what the guy actually looked like. Remembering from the other day when he looked at the building, he had dark eyes… maybe it was from the limited sunlight but Connor swore his eyes were just shades of black; thick black eyebrows, long black eyelashes, and dark colored eyes. It was mysterious and somehow sexy.

Connor huffed as the stranger disappeared around the corner. He was wearing shorts today and those leg muscles were truly a gift from God. Huge calves and thick thighs flexing and straining with every movement, and of course his butt looked just as great in shorts (if not better) as it did in sweat pants.

Connor sat down and checked the time, 6:10. He ran a hand through his hair and took a sip of his coffee, his eyes flicking to the window again, a plan forming in his mind.

He woke up at 6am the next morning… there was no client to meet or work to be done (he didn’t need to be at the office til 10), but he still aggressively turned off his cell phone’s alarm and pulled himself out of bed, heading straight for the coffee machine.

After he prepares the coffee grounds and water and filter, a yawn tears from his throat as he walks to the window, bare feet padding heavily on the carpeted floor. He scoots his laptop to the side, opens the window, and waits.

And waits.

Connor grumbles, checking his phone: 6:15. _Where is he?_

The coffee machine grumbles, indicating it’s pulled the last amount of water and is ready to be had. And Connor fidgets, biting his thumb nail. Coffee is done, but he doesn’t want to risk leaving the window, for fear he’ll miss his favorite thing about this apartment.

A few more minutes pass and Connor’s about to give up, when _he_ finally approaches, glorious as always and shirtless again.

Connor grins widely, once again staring openly, eyes raking up and down the guy’s body, trying to take in every detail, every curve and dip and the way his arms pump as he runs. He’s all sweaty again, which is fantastic because his hair is wild; a black mop on top of his head. Connor’s tongue drags along the back of his teeth before pulling his bottom lip in and biting it gently as the man slows, stopping again in front of the apartment complex.

Connor holds his breath but doesn’t move away from the window. The guy tiredly groans so loudly that Connor is able to hear it and his pupils dilate, pulse quickening because that was probably the sexiest sound he’s ever heard. And the tone of the sound caught Connor off guard, it was lower than he imagined the guy’s voice to be, very low, down right suggestive.

The guy pulls his arms behind his head again and his biceps stretch gloriously. His eyes are closed, lips parting in a sigh, dropping his arms and pulling his ear buds out, turning and walking toward the building.

Connor’s heart kicks up. _Does he live here?_ His mind races in anticipation, his face pressing against the screen again to watch as the man walks closer to his window. Connor is silent, but something makes the guy look up, eyes locking with Connor’s and the latter is so surprised at getting caught that when he goes to pull away from the screen, his head bangs loudly against the window rail and he yelps in pain, spitting out a “fuck!” before stumbling backwards and landing on his ass.

Connor is too mortified to get off the floor, laying there, staring at the ceiling, and processing his shame. But not too mortified to replay the hot guy looking up at him, eyebrows raised high and eyes finally noticeable. They were still dark, but also wide, curious and… kinda puffy (maybe he was imagining it but Connor was sure he saw bags under his eyes). But they were still quite a sight, even if it resulted in getting caught in the act of staring like a creep.

Oh well.

That didn’t stop Connor from continuing to wake up early and (carefully) peeking out his window, hoping to get a glance of the runner who may-or-may-not live in the same building as him. Connor would sit at his desk or stand off to the side, sipping on his coffee and resume catching the man run past, becoming more stealthy in his viewing and smirking like an idiot when he noticed that every time he jogged past now, his eyes would flick to his window, or he’d slow down, taking a not-so-subtle glance up before resuming his work out.

It elated Connor that he had caught the guy’s attention, even if it wasn’t in the most pure of ways, but he couldn’t bring himself to let himself be caught watching again. That wasn’t what he wanted out of these “interactions.”

Connor wasn’t sure what wanted, to be honest. After a week an a half of obsessively waking up at the crack of dawn to just watch a strange (hot) man run past his window for approximately 10 seconds, Connor wondered if anything would come out of it, or even if he wanted something to happen. He kinda liked this, watching from afar thing (even though it was boarder line sexually frustrating). But he was still new in this huge city and still hadn’t brought anyone new home for a quick fuck (his stamina had nearly drained completely and his workload tripled since graduating from law school and passing the bar exam). So, despite the lingering glances from some of his coworkers or from the men in the bar he frequented, Connor hadn’t felt very compelled to act on the heated stares, just nodding and resuming his drinking, wondering why he was doing it.

* * *

Another morning had arrived, Connor actually taking his time taking a shower and getting dressed before filling a thermos full of coffee because he had a meeting with his agency. A legitimate excuse for waking up at 6am.

He glanced thoughtfully at his east window as he made his way to the door, looking at his watch, 6:53. He had most definitely missed his jogger.

As he made his way down the stairs, he pulled his phone out, double checking the meeting time and contemplating running to the nearest cafe for breakfast, when he lost his footing, eyes distractedly locked onto his phone screen, and felt himself losing momentum, falling forward.

The last thing he saw before Connor squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for impact, was a pair or familiar dark eyes on a panicked face.

He collided heavily into a pair of arms, which belonged to a broad chest he was currently face-planted against as they stumbled backwards, gravity carrying them down the remaining steps before smacking into a wall in the corridor. Connor felt the jostle and cough of pain from above and finally opened his eyes, wide and alarmed, his pulse going a mile a minute.

The whole ordeal happened so fast, probably just a few seconds, but now Connor felt time slow, like the world stopped turning as his breathing matched with the stranger who still had him locked in a protective embrace.

“Ah,” the man finally gasped, his cage around Connor relaxing. “Anything broken?” His tone was light, as if what just happened was the funniest thing ever. While the only thought currently running through Connor’s mind was just how tight the man had been holding him and how positively _comfortable_ it was being wrapped up in his arms.

Connor slowly pulled himself off the white wife-beater, which was wrapped far too snug around the expanse of chest and abs, trying to control his face into something cool and collected (and swallowing spit he felt pooling in his mouth, thanking whatever high being was out there that the guy had a shirt on today). He couldn’t meet the others eyes, at least not until Connor got his heart rate back to a healthy pace, so he looked at the floor instead, scoffing at what he saw.

“Just my coffee thermos… and hopefully not my phone,” he stated blankly, taking a step back and bending down to retrieve his phone, mourning for his caffeine but leaving it be for now.

As he straightened up, Connor finally gave the guy his attention, feeling his knees go weak and his blood run south. Connor obviously knew it was him– _his runner_ – the moment he felt himself falling and was beyond embarrassed now… but also weirdly turned on, his tired libido suddenly surging back to life. _Really, penis? You can’t stay soft after a near-death experience??_

And the runner was staring at Connor suspiciously, questioning. Connor’s eyes darted back to the floor, focusing on the dark brown liquid that was his coffee.

“… Have we met before?” He asked and even though Connor felt heat climbing up his neck, he couldn’t help but think how smooth and lovely the man’s voice sounded.

“Nope,” Connor answered, kicking himself for his awkwardness. He straightened his shoulders and stretched his lips in his best smirk, throwing it at the guy and taking pride in how he physically reacted to the look; flabbergasted and shyly looking away. Good.

With the upper hand, as he was used to, Connor combed his fingers through his gelled hair, making sure it was still nicely styled before speaking again.

“Thanks for catching me, by the way.”

The guy met his eyes again and Connor swallowed, trying to hold onto his dignity and keep his smirk on as he extended his hand.

“My name’s Connor,” he introduced himself suavely.

But the guy left him hanging, eyes squinting at him carefully before they blew wide in recognition.

“You’re the guy who was staring at me!” He declared in triumph.

_Well shit._

Connor didn’t know how to respond to that, and his hand was still out expectantly.

Finally after an awkward silence, Connor sighed, dropping his hand and taking a step closer to the guy, inhaling deeply, appreciating the smell of Old Spice and sweat that made his lips part hungrily.

“Yes, I was watching you,” he spoke softly, cocking an eyebrow and his smirk returning sharper than ever at the light gasp from the other man.

“So, can I have your name? Or should I just continue referring you as the sexy guy who runs past my window every morning?”

The guy actually sputtered, making as if to back away from Connor but couldn’t because of the wall already behind him. Connor was delighted. Hot and shy, _adorable._

“Well, ah…” he mumbled, a goofy smile stretching up and creating laugh lines that Connor felt his insides warm at.

“Oliver.”

“Oliver,” Connor nodded, trying out the name, licking his bottom lip before dragging his teeth along it. He watched how Oliver’s eyes followed the movement.

“Glad to finally meet you,” Connor tilted his head up, so their lips were a little more level. “Want to get a coffee some time?”

Usually Connor suggested drinks when asking guys out. Alcohol meant late at night, at a loud, dark bar where he didn’t have to pretend to be interested in the other guys. It also meant low inhibitions and rougher sex, which Connor used to be all about.

But he wanted to take Oliver out for coffee… he didn’t know why, but he was already addicted to those eyes and low voice and wanted more. He wanted to _see_ more of Oliver.

Oliver laughed, nervous but genuine and Connor’s smirk relaxed into a smile.

“Coffee sounds nice.”

They exchanged numbers right there, Connor explaining how he needed to get to work and Oliver nodding, stammering something about a shower and Connor didn’t even try to hide the lust that flashed across his eyes at thoughts of hot water spraying down Oliver’s sun-kissed skin, dripping down his neck and arms and stomach…

Oliver tripped walking up the stairs and Connor opened his arms jokingly, which made Oliver laugh again.

Connor was very glad Oliver found out his secret.


	11. Fire alarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good 'ol "the fire alarm got pulled and theres a hottie out here in his underwear" AU. Rated T.

Everyone is filing out of the building, calmly but quickly. Oliver is among them, rubbing his eyes and groaning. He had been sleeping, as many of his neighbors surely were, groggy and in their PJs.

While the crowd of tenants wait in a scattered group outside, some either on their phones or watching the firemen rush into the building (Oliver himself is inspecting the building for smoke, wondering if it was a prank or there was actually a fire somewhere), a man running out of the front entrance caught Oliver’s eye.

He practically pushed past the firemen, one of them stopping him to inquire if he was alright and he hastily nodded, his wet hair flopping up and down.

Oliver smiled in humor, then bit his lip as the guy finally walked into the parking lot with the rest of the group. The guy was soaking wet, completely naked save for a pair of green boxer shorts that clung to his hips like paint and a pair of sneakers dangling from his fingers.

He had a crazed look in his eyes, a sheepish smile on his lips, and one hell of a body; slim and athletic.

Oliver was staring. Many other people were too, but most went back to their business, shaking their heads. Oliver couldn’t stop though, openly and obviously checking out the guy’s neck and arms and thighs… shining and covered in goosebumps.

And he was coming near.

Oliver looked down as their eyes accidentally met, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. He felt someone approach him.

“Hey, uh, is there really a fire in there?”

Oliver looked up and felt his jaw drop. Because there he was, practically naked, nipples perked from the cold, hair glistening with soap suds. 

A long moment passed, the guy raised an eyebrow at the silent staring and Oliver coughed awkwardly, embarrassed and swallowing hard.

“U-uh, I’m not sure…” his eyes darted elsewhere. _Don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy…_

Another silence passed between them. The firefighters were taking their time so there probably wasn’t actually a fire.

“Well,” the hot guy started up again. “I hope so, I almost died trying to get out of the shower, I was so panicked.”

He grinned humorously, Oliver smiled in return.

“Can I use your arm for support for a sec?” He lifted his shoes. “Gravel’s hurting my feet.

Oliver nodded. “Yeah yeah, of course,” but before he could extend his arm the guy just grabbed onto his bicep, bending over slightly as he lifted one leg, then the other, slipping the sneakers on.

Oliver watched, dumbfounded. How was something so mundane like putting on shoes so… cute? The guy had his head dipped, grunting and swaying on one foot, biting his lip as he brought his head up, giving Oliver a silly smile as he struggled.

Oliver missed the pressure of the guy’s hold once he released his arm, a tingling sensation left in it’s place. The man straightened up and that goofy smile morphed into a grin that wiped Oliver’s mind clean, his eyes probably giving everything away because the guy laughed softly at whatever he saw in Oliver.

“What’s your name?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Oliver.”

The guy nodded appreciatively, taking a step closer. Oliver took a deep breath, smelling something amber that left a prickling note at the back of his nose, a soapy cologne smell. It was nice, clean, earthy. It made a very raunchy image flash behind his eyes.

“I’m Connor,” he introduced himself, unaware of the affect he was having on Oliver.

Or maybe Connor did know, if his once-over followed by a triumphant, teeth-showing smirk didn’t mean anything else.

“Hey,” Oliver greeted, watching as Connor crossed his arms over his chest, fingers splaying out over his own biceps for warmth.

“Hi.”


	12. Drunken kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (You like my clever chapter "titles"?) Rated T.

They had been at a bar, a last minute adventure after a get together Connor had been hosting at his apartment (celebrating the end of another semester) before the group of grad students decided to move the party outside. It was nearing 3am, closing time for the bar they had decided on, and Oliver had the exclusive privilege to carry his mess of a boyfriend out of the establishment and head home (nodding to Connor’s friends and bidding them a goodnight, hefting Connor up with one arm around his waist and holding Connor’s wrist around his shoulders with the other).

Only it was raining out and neither of them had brought their car, or an umbrella. After a couple minutes walking in the downpour, Oliver groaned miserably at their predicament. They had sought shelter from the rain under an awning to a local shop. Oliver wasn’t exactly sober, but not as shit-faced as Connor, who was currently nuzzling his face into Oliver’s bicep as they waited under the fabric refuge, hoping the rain would let up soon.

Connor was relentless when he was drunk, Oliver knew this, but it still managed to take him by surprise whenever Connor would get handsy, especially in public (they had a mutual “no PDA” rule they lived by).

So when Connor pressed into Oliver’s side and began kissing up his neck, Oliver shut it down, settling his hands on Connor’s shoulders.

“Connor, not now, you’re drunk.”

Connor made a sound like, _pssh,_ and threaded his fingers in between Oliver’s taking the hands off his shoulders and forcibly turning Oliver to face him. Their hands were cold and clammy from the rain, but were soon warming up, thanks to Connor massaging his finger tips against Oliver’s knuckles.

“So?” Connor challenged, swaying forward to bump his chest against Oliver’s. “Doesn’t change the fact that I wanna kiss your mouth,” he grinned, amused at himself.

Oliver couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across said mouth, averting his eyes and looking out into the shitty weather they were currently avoiding.

“When we get home,” Oliver tried to reason with his boyfriend, tugging on their hands but not disconnecting them.

Connor _pouted._ Oliver wished he had a hand free to take a picture; preserve that look forever.

“But Ollie,” Connor nearly whined and Oliver bit his lip to keep his smile from growing. “It’s so cold, and I could use the warmth…” he trailed off suggestively, leaning up and lowering his eyelids.

“Connor,” Oliver warned, leaning back so Connor chased his lips.

Connor huffed. “Ollie,” he mimicked Oliver’s tone, teasing.

They stared at each other for a moment, listening to the sound of the rain pelting against the concrete and nothing else; 3am was eerily quiet, or pleasantly. Oliver licked his lips, gazing into Connor’s eyes and noting how blown his pupils were, dark and shifty, thanks to the booze.

His own tipsy train of thought led Oliver to lean in, connecting their lips off-center, clumsily, but Connor quickly readjusted, hands winding around his neck and pulling Oliver down so their was no space between their damp clothes.

Oliver’s hands lazily made their way up Connor’s torso, underneath his open denim jack, until his palms pressed against Connor’s jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks and ears and soon the nape of his neck. His fingers tightened as Connor parted his lips and a tongue slipped in Oliver’s mouth. Oliver groaned, tasting PBR and lime, stepping back so he connected with a wall of the building and Connor firmly resting his body against his, a knee slipping in between Oliver’s legs and pressing up into his crotch.

Oliver moaned as their lips disconnected briefly, Connor’s lips moving to sloppily kiss up Oliver’s jaw and down to his collar bone. Oliver stretched his neck out invitingly, his breath coming out heavy, because Connor was also moving his hands, exploring and pressing _hard_ against his clothed skin.

“Connor,” Oliver tried but grunted wordlessly as Connor nipped at the skin at Oliver’s neck, pressing his thigh up to rub against the seat of Oliver’s pants.

“Yes, Ollie?” Connor’s tone was playful. Oliver could feel the smirk against his skin.

“Wanna continue this at the apartment?” Even as Oliver said this, his hands moved down to grab Connor’s ass, squeezing firmly and pulling his boyfriend further against him.

After a gasp and chuckle, Connor’s lips trailed back up Oliver’s neck to whisper in his ear:

“Why bother, when we’re having so much fun here?”


	13. Waltzing in the living room is dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing leads to injury leads to forehead kisses. Rated G.

Connor and Oliver had been taking ballroom dance lessons recently. The only real reason for this was their upcoming wedding, where they wanted to show off, just a little (at Connor’s insistence, surprisingly). And although Connor was exuberantly nailing the course with flying colors, Oliver just couldn’t get the hang of it, and admittedly felt awkward dancing in a room with other couples.

So they started practicing at home, Connor taking the lead and spinning them around their living room in a Waltz.

“Connor, slow down _Jesus Christ_ ,” Oliver whisper-yelled, his head snapping between looking down at their feet and watching Connor with wide, panicked eyes.

“Relax, Oliver, it’s a simple box-step,” Connor kept his eyes locked with Oliver’s the entire time, not a hint of dread to be had. Meanwhile Oliver had a death grip on Connor’s hand, the opposite holding his bicep for dear life, instead of casually laying his arm over Connor’s like he was supposed to.

Connor honestly didn’t see what the big deal was, Oliver was following relatively smoothly, albeit a little shaky as he stepped backwards, sometimes forgetting to close his feet together and tripping over himself.

Oliver glared at Connor behind his spectacles, body tensing up as they barely missed the coffee table, Connor smoothly gliding them around it.

“Stop looking at your feet, you know what Caroline said.” Caroline was their instructor.

Oliver huffed, he’d roll his eyes if he could do ten thing at once. “Then how am I supposed to know where you’re going?”

“You’re supposed to trust me,” Connor explained, grinning playfully. “You need to relax and anticipate my movements.”

“Why can’t you ‘anticipate’ mine?” Oliver argued childishly. Connor was actually impressed Oliver was able to talk this much without fumbling; he was improving whether he knew it or not.

“I don’t want to anticipate falling to the floor,” Connor teased. Oliver gave him a dirty look.

After a few more minutes of silence, Connor stopped. Oliver breathed a sigh of relief as the song ended, another one starting up that was a little faster.

“C'mon, lets try the progressive step,” Connor took Oliver’s hand again, assuming their positions.

Oliver’s eyes blew wide, terrified. “No, I hate that one. I never know where you’re going!”

Connor sighed, rolling his eyes. “Ollie, just relax and try to trust me?”

The music continued as Oliver’s glare softened. He sighed and finally relaxed, nodding his head. A brief thought flashed in Oliver’s mind of how the dancing could be a metaphor for their relationship but didn’t give that a second thought. Of course he trusted Connor… he was just born with two left feet, and he felt silly dancing. It was always an activity he saw between a man and a woman, and even though he hated gender roles and social construct, he just couldn’t help thinking how odd they must look, two men in suits, waltzing around a dance floor, no pretty dress to follow behind or heels to click rhythmically…

Oliver supposed that was just his insecurity lurking though, always resurfacing and plaguing on his vulnerabilities.

Oliver tried not to look at his feet or squeeze the life out of Connor’s arm as they moved, Connor stepping forward confidently, bending his knees up and down as the step called for it. Oliver swallowed, nodding his head along to the steps Connor supplied under his breath.

It was going pretty good, although the dance seemed more enjoyable for Connor than Oliver, when Connor, out of nowhere, began dipping Oliver back, one of his hands trailing down his back and slowly letting him go in a controlled fall.

But it wasn’t controlled, Oliver hadn’t ‘anticipated’ that movement and a surge of cold panic ran through him as he felt himself lose momentum. And much like a startled cat, his finger nails clutched desperately to Connor’s arm at the same time his legs gave out, turning into wet noodles.

In the blink of an eye Oliver fell, his back connecting with the hard floor in a loud _thump,_ unaware that his fingers still clutched desperately to Connor’s arm. Connor was yanked down, tumbling with an undignified holler as he landed roughly on Oliver’s chest, knocking the air out of both of them in grunts of pain.

“Oh my God,” Oliver wheezed, his head throbbing. Connor groaned over him before rolling over too quickly, overestimating the spot where they landed and smacked his face into the coffee table.

Oliver’s head snapped to the side as he heard the unmistakable _thud_ of bone hitting hardwood.

“Ow, _fuck!”_ Connor’s hands flew up to his forehead, clutching it tenderly and caving in on himself.

Oliver sat up, turning and taking Connor’s shoulders, turning him slightly.

“Are you okay?”

“No, shit,” Connor’s eyes were squeezed shut. He hissed as he brought his hand away, checking his palm. They both sighed in relief as no blood came back. But there was already a bruise forming right in the center of Connor’s forehead.

“How does it look?”

Oliver’s eyes softened as he took in his fiance, one eye screwed shut and the other barely open, eyebrows furled.

“It’s bruised,” Oliver carefully threaded his fingers through Connor’s hair, pushing his bangs aside to get a better look. Connor moaned helplessly.

Oliver really, _really_ wanted to say something about ’ _I told you so_ ’ but wisely kept his mouth shut, slowly helping Connor to sit up.

Connor slumped forward instead, his face burying in Oliver’s chest.

“Okay, instant regret…” his voice was muffled by Oliver’s shirt.

Oliver chuckled fondly, continuing to comb his fingers through Connor’s hair, happy he was okay.

After a beat Connor spoke again, quiet:

“Kiss it, make it better.”

“What?” Oliver asked, amused, not believing what he just heard.

Connor tilted his head up so his chin rested on Oliver’s chest. “You gotta kiss the injury to make it all better, everyone knows that.”

Oliver smiled like a lunatic, Connor always surprised him, even after years of being together. He leaned down, acquiescing Connor’s request and lightly brushing his lips against the fresh bruise.

He smiled softly as he pulled back, trying again to help Connor sit up, which he finally did, folding his legs over Oliver’s lap.

“Better?” Oliver asked softly, touching his nose to Connor’s cheek.

“Better,” Connor agreed, turning his head to connect their lips in a soft kiss.


	14. Connor is a professor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... and Oliver is the student he slept with. Rated M. (one of my personal favs. wanna continue it but idk how)

Connor walked into his lecture hall with a little skip in his step, unusual for him, since he had a reputation around campus for being one of the most difficult professors to have the displeasure to learn from. He handed out too many homework assignments and gave pop-quizzes (who gives pop-quizzes anymore? Connor Walsh does), and he was a stickler for attendance. Connor locked the door the moment the clock struck class time and didn’t give a damn who was knocking.

But his new students didn’t need to know that… yet. Connor was in far too good a mood to torture the freshman who unknowingly signed up for his Intro to Criminal Justice class.

He took a chalk piece in his hand and began writing on the black board.

“Good morning everyone, my name is Connor Walsh,” he announced loudly, stepping away from the board and watched as everyone settled down, appreciating the silence that filled the air now. “You can call me Connor or Mr. Walsh, whatever you remember first because I don’t go by, ‘Hey’,” he ducked his head down to look at his list of students before taking the folder the sheet was atop of.

“Roll call,” his eyes flicked up, taking in the 40ish students all around him. “Remember where you’re sitting cos that’ll be your seat for the rest of the semester.”

He ignored the groans and muttering as he cleared his throat. He hated lecture halls because it never felt intimate. Connor enjoyed getting to know his students and being able to pick out the trouble makers and brainiacs, so having assigned seats made it a little easier on him to be able to identify each student not only by name, but face too.

“Harold Abarr,” Connor started down the alphabetically listed names, glancing up at the “here!” and penning a check mark next to his name.

He continued through the names, calling out an, “Oliver… Hampton.” His nose wrinkled. _Oliver, that name sounded familiar…_

There was a very quiet, very low sounding, “Present,” from the front row and Connor froze as he found the source of the voice.

A man, probably in his mid 30s, sat before Connor. He was looking at his desk and playing with his pencil, round glasses slipping down his nose, a tie wrapped around his collar and slacks that hiked up to reveal diamond patterned socks. How he missed him before, Connor had no idea, but he did know why he remembered the name _Oliver_ now. He had been screaming it last night.

“ _Ah, Oliver, fuck–”_

_Oliver’s fingers pressed into the soft flesh around Connor’s hips, pulling his ass back with every thrust, getting in deep each time and ripping obscene noises from Connor into the pillow he was face planted against._

_Oliver moaned, slowing down and leaning forward to press his chest against Connor’s back, licking the sweat that had begun to form._

“ _Say my name again,” Oliver whispered roughly, his hands moving from Connor’s hips to his chest, laying his palms flat and trapping nipples between his fingers._

“ _Oliver,” Connor panted, breath hitching as Oliver slowly eased out and back in, painfully slow in contrast to the pace he’d just been fucking Connor at._

“ _Nnng,_ Oliver,” _Connor whined, turning his head and letting his lips be captured in a bruising kiss._

Connor snapped out of his memory as a student suddenly sneezed and Oliver was now giving him his full attention.

“Uh, um… Sandy Ingrid?”

Connor wasn’t even aware Oliver was a student, let alone his student, when he found the guy in the bar he frequented often. And who would have guessed it? Oliver was old enough to be well and done with college, working in a 9-5 job behind a computer, at least that’d been what Oliver had told him during their small talk over mixed drinks.

Oliver hadn’t said anything about being a student, or going back to school or… anything. All Connor could remember was that the guy worked with computers and that he was phenomenal at sex.

The fact that Oliver Hampton was his student wasn’t as terrifying as knowing that Oliver Hampton was only supposed to be a one-night thing. Connor had left before he had woken up, needing to get a head start on the semester and not wanting to linger anyway.

But now here he was, dressed in a dull suit and tie, sitting front row, and looking for the world ready to leave.

Connor wouldn’t blame him.

He ended class early, Connor’s thoughts obviously preoccupied, but lingered by his desk, answering student’s questions and trying to appear normal and collected, like always.

Then Oliver finally approached him, slipping his messenger bag a little further up his shoulder and biting his bottom lip. Connor stared at his mouth, following the motion of Oliver pulling his lip in with his teeth and letting it go in a sigh. Connor remembered a little too well how nicely those lips fit along his, how warm and comforting and hot they had been.

He controlled his features into something professional, tapping papers along his desk far too many times.

“Hey so,” Oliver started, looking out the door to make sure the last student had left. “About last night-”

“I would completely understand if you wanted to drop out,” Connor interrupted in a rush, terrified of hearing whatever Oliver was about to say. He didn’t need to hear about “why did you leave?” or “can I see you again?” he was over that shit. Definitely and completely. Didn’t Oliver understand the meaning of one-night stands?

Oliver hesitated. “Um, well, I won’t make it awkward if you don’t. All I was gonna say is, you left your watch at my place.”

Connor subconsciously looked down at his naked wrist. How had he not noticed his watch was missing?

“Oh,” Connor laughed lightly, finally pulling himself together and swallowing down his nerves. “I guess I did.”

Oliver nodded, smiling. Connor felt something strike his heart at that smile but blamed it on being horny.

“I was wondering…” Oliver stepped up, drumming his fingers along Connor’s desk. “If you’d like to stop by tonight and pick it up?”

Connor’s jaw dropped.

The air suddenly sizzled between them at the implication in Oliver’s tone, his eyes narrowing in a look more reminiscent to last night rather than the fretting student in front of the class.

Connor let his well practiced smirk stretch across his mouth, leaning forward so only Oliver could hear his answer.

“I’d love to stop by… maybe I’ll stick around. I should thank you for holding onto it for me, some how.”

“Mm…” Oliver hummed, grinning himself with a light pink coloring his cheeks. “I know a way you can thank me.”


	15. After an eventful day in NYC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted bbys. rated G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story: i was hanging out with another coliver writer irl and we were discussing fics. she says something like, "there was this fic i read once... where connor and oliver take a train back to brooklyn for a hotel. who gets a hotel in brooklyn if you're exploring manhattan?? makes no sense." (or something like that).
> 
> and i paused and said, "... i wrote that fic." also oops? lol

They were exhausted.  
  
A whole day spent walking around New York City had taken its toll on Connor and Oliver, their feet aching, skin burning from the summer sun, and standing in a crowded, smelly train was somehow amplifying all that. They could have toned it down with the touristy sightseeing, but excitement took over the couple as they crossed what they wanted to do off their list, stepping into activities that were to be saved for tomorrow.  
  
Today’s adventure had included: gazing out over the top of the Empire State Building at night (and spending an insane amount of money on souvenirs for their family), visiting Times Square and buying a speed painting of a psychedelic landscape, and bobbing in and out of countless art and history museums. Check, check, check.

Add that on top of money spent on extravagant restaurants (for lunch and dinner), a long walk around Central Park, and taking a boat to Ellis Island to, obviously, scale to the top of the Statue of Liberty. “This is so cramped, but so cool,” Connor had admitted, nearly poking his head out of the crown of Lady Liberty to get a better view of the skyline. 

  
Visiting The Big Apple had been Oliver’s idea. He’d been going on about how he had only been to NYC for work, and Oliver never got to leave the hotels for anything besides meetings and training and everything else his job required of him.  
  
After only a short amount of begging, (”it’s basically just a city of attractions, I mean, everyone has gone. Don’t you want to say you’ve visited New York City before you turn 30?”) Connor had given him a look; slightly sarcastic, mostly humorous, because watching Oliver plead like a kid was both ridiculous and also incredibly endearing (and he discovered long ago that saying no to Oliver was nearly impossible). Connor joked about bringing up his age, making Oliver laugh and finally Connor caved, sighing, rolling his eyes, trying to pretend that Oliver’s enthusiasm wasn’t catching, and absolutely adorable. What the heck, they hadn’t been on vacation in years, they deserved some time alone, outside of Philly… although Connor hadn’t anticipated spending most of their time _on foot_ , rather than _in bed_.  
  
One hot credit card later found the couple on the subway, heading back to their hotel in Brooklyn. And although it was late, the train car was packed. Connor whined, trying to telepathically convince anyone with a seat to give it up for an able-bodied, 28-year old man who was currently suffering from sore feet (tomorrow was the all-inclusive spa treatment and Connor was already fantasizing about how amazing his body would feel afterwards). The bottom of Connor’s feet were throbbing, numb, and the toes of his sneakers were splitting, revealing the blue color of his socks.  
  
Oliver was obviously in pain too, but was better at hiding it. He stood tall, one hand gripping the support pole hanging from the ceiling and the other arm pinned to his side, holding onto the spray paint art tightly. His glasses were slipping down his slick nose and Connor would graciously push them back up when they dangled a little too far off. Oliver’s eyes, as he looked over to Connor each time to thank him, were tired and dry, eye lids hanging heavy, skin soft and relaxed, ready to hit the hay. Connor was sure he reflected the same burnt out look.  
  
Connor was holding onto the vertical pole next to Oliver, letting his body be pushed and jerked as the train screeched to a halt or started back up with a lurch that would make him stumble, reaching out for the pole to steady himself. He grumbled pathetically as the train made it’s 5th stop and Connor stumbled back, bumping into someone, throwing a “sorry” over his shoulder, which was received silently, making Connor huff.  
  
“I’m dead,” Connor complained lightly, his head falling against Oliver’s chest.  
  
Oliver ducked his head, giving Connor a kiss on top of his sweaty head, dark hair tickling his nose.

Oliver’s lips brushed down soothingly. “Almost there,” he whispered into Connor’s ear, voice slow and heavy.

Connor was pressed against Oliver’s side, both of them warm and covered in sweat, but Connor didn’t mind, allowing himself to snuggle further, his eyes slipping shut, ears tuning out the chatter of other people surrounding them and focused on Oliver’s heart beat, appreciating the steady rise and fall of his chest. He inhaled deeply, taking in Oliver’s unique scent mingled in with old spice and a hint of aftershave still lingering from this morning.

The train stopped again and more people, impossibly, boarded. Oliver shuffled to make room and Connor groaned, dropping his hand from the pole and opting to wrap both arms around his boyfriend’s middle, using him as an anchor instead.

Connor felt more than heard Oliver chuckle before he bent over awkwardly. Connor opened his eyes into slits, watching Oliver transfer the painting to stand between his legs and using his now free arm to wrap around Connor, holding him steady as the train lurched forward, both of them swaying but not falling, Oliver’s grip on the bar above strong and solid.

“Mm, I could fall asleep like this,” Connor half joked, smiling, content in Oliver’s hold.

“Please don’t,” Oliver laughed, but his tone mimicking absolute seriousness.

Connor’s arms squeezed in a hug. “I had fun today.”

Oliver’s head once again lulled to rest atop Connor’s, his cheek resting against his temple.

“Me too.”


	16. "How do you say...?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilingual Oliver and gross fluff. Rated Gish.

Connor’s fingers danced along Oliver’s skin, warm and wet from their previous activity. He was nestled under Oliver’s arm with his naked body pressed along Oliver’s side, one leg bent across.

They breathed together, coming down from their sex high and relaxing.

Connor’s palm laid flat across Oliver’s chest, giving his nipple a pinch and smiling at the small noise of complaint from Oliver.

“How do you say ‘skin’?”

A silence passed before Oliver understood the question.

“ _Balat_ ,” Oliver spoke softly, his own hand around Connor’s shoulder beginning to caress down his neck and back.

Connor’s fingers continued down, gently grazing, observing how Oliver’s muscles tensed when a ticklish spot was hit.

“Stomach.”

“ _Tiyan_ ,” Oliver smiled into the word.

Connor tilted his head up, his chin resting on Oliver’s chest as he gazed up at him.

“Eyes.”

“ _Mata_.”

Connor sat up slightly, shifting and pressing a kiss to Oliver’s forehead, dragging his lips to his eyebrows before softly kissing the corner of Oliver’s eyes.

“Nose?” Connor tapped his nose to Oliver’s as he said it.

Oliver’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “ _Ilong_.”

Connor brought his hand up from Oliver’s stomach to cup his cheek, feeling his heart flutter as Oliver leaned into it, eyes closing in content.

He directed Oliver’s face forward again to press their lips together in a gentle kiss, keeping it short as he disconnected, lips barely touching as he murmured:

“Lips?”

“ _Labi_ ,” Oliver sighed.

Connor kissed him again, rougher, repositioning himself above Oliver and groaning as Oliver’s nails lightly scored down the curve of Connor’s back.

“ _Iniibig kita_ ,” Oliver moaned, taking Connor’s hips in his grasp and pushing up erotically.

Connor’s head fell forward, his hair hanging loose and wild, to brush his lips along Oliver’s.

“What’s that mean?”

Oliver smiled, tilting his head up to bite Connor’s lip.

“I think you know.”


	17. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A headcanon drabble. Rated G

Anonymous: ollie LOVES rain. he insists on walking to the nearest cafe for a latte every time it does. connor pretends to hate it. but he perks up too now when it rains

* * *

And it’s become a new thing for them, a tradition, especially late at night when they’re both at home. If it’s raining outside it’s Connor now who gets up, putting his coat on and beckoning Oliver to the door.

Oliver grins, wanting to say something about how Connor used to whine about this little quirk of his but bites his tongue, grabbing the big umbrella for them to share.

“Have you ever kissed in the rain?” Oliver asks randomly as they walk to the cafe, appreciating the smell of the rain on the hot concrete. He especially loved the summer rain, giving the air a cool humidity.

After a beat, “Can’t say I have,” Connor responds, looking up at Oliver. “Why?”

And Oliver stops walking, a playful grin stretching on his lips and he lowers the umbrella, letting the heavy rain fall on them.

“Oliver!” Connor flinches, eyes squinting against the rain drops as he reaches for the umbrella, but Oliver pulls it away, giggling lightly.

“What the hell?”

“Connor,” Oliver gets his boyfriend’s attention, dropping the umbrella and slipping his hands around Connor’s jaw and up into his hairline, pulling him in for a kiss.

Connor relaxes immediately as Oliver’s lips move against his own. His hands moving around Oliver’s midsection and up around his back to grip his shoulders, pulling him close as he kissed back.

Oliver sighs out of his nose, stepping forward to press their bodies flush against each other as his jaw relaxes and he slips his tongue past Connor’s, deepening the kiss and causing the latter to groan lightly, his fingers dragging down Oliver’s back.

After a while they break apart, Oliver’s eyes opening slowly, noticing Connor’s eyes still closed, rain water falling down his cheeks.

“… Now what was the point of the umbrella?” Connor finally asks, his eyes opening into slits. Oliver laughs, picking up the umbrella and resuming their walk, hand in hand.


	18. Six Flags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More headcanons. Rated G

• It’s Oliver’s idea to visit Six Flags. He hasn’t even visited a carnival since he was a kid and after seeing an ad on TV with the coasters and family friendly atmosphere, he knew Connor and him needed to go.

• Connor whined at first, wanting to spend their first day off together doing something that didn’t involve kids screaming and aerial vomit.

• But he does eventually concede, especially after he admits he’s never been and Oliver makes a dramatic gasp at the thought.

• It’s the middle of summer when they go. Connor is wearing black shorts with a black shirt and is positively miserable not 30 minutes in.

• Not to mention Connor discovers his absolute fear of roller coasters. Especially the big, loopy ones that Oliver is obsessed with and practically drags him to.

• It’s after the third ride that Connor finally throws up breakfast and tells Oliver he can’t do the brain scrambling coasters anymore.

• “If you didn’t like them you should have told me.” Oliver lightly scolds, his eyes comforting.

• After a brief break and lots of water, they wait in lines for more tame rides.  
Connor rests heavily against Oliver while they wait, pulling at his shirt and groaning as he feels a bead of sweat slide down his back.

• “This line is taking foreverrr,” Connor whined, resting his forehead on Oliver’s shoulder. “It’ll be worth it, trust me,” Oliver reasons.

• In all Oliver is the one acting like a kid, mind full of optimism and wonder, while Connor is absolutely tolerating it, trying very hard for Oliver’s sake to not bitch and moan, but you can see it on his face how he’s not enjoying himself.

• That is, until they switch to the water park. Connor is happy to rip his shirt off and pull on swim trunks, smirking at the view of his boyfriend rubbing sun screen on himself.

• “Want me to get your back?” Connor offers, taking the bottle from Oliver’s hand before he can answer.

• Connor’s entire mood shifts while they’re going on water rides and Oliver is elated, happy to be the one tugged along from ride to ride. He’s also being tortured by the constant sight of Connor drenched and half naked, his hair everywhere and forcing himself to look away whenever Connor would have to tug his shorts up after an intense water slide nearly pulling them off.

• Connor probably starts thinking of getting frisky in the wave pool and Oliver shuts it down.

• Even though while they’re eating ice cream, Oliver might be licking his creamsicle a little too suggestively and Connor watches in a trance and pops a boner right there in public. He hides it with the purple elephant they won in a ring tossing game.

• And when they have kids and bring them to the park, they’re much older and both suffer from her over excitement. From going on the bumper cars with her (Connor totally seeks out and smacks Oliver’s car at every turn) and playing in the watery park set up (complete with a kiddie water slide that she makes them both go down. It’s the most fun they’d ever had).


	19. Connor is weak for Oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "my favorite relationship trope is where person A is literally an asshole to everyone but person B scoops up their little bitter ass with their angelic personality and person A becomes a love struck fool." Rated G

Michaela rolled her eyes, letting them land on Asher, communicating via telepathy how aggravating Connor was to listen to. 

_Can you believe this bullshit?_ Asher said with his eyes.

 _At least you don’t have to deal with this on a daily basis._ Micheala twirled her pen between her fingers.

They were at Annalise’s house for a quick pow wow, discussing the upcoming case, but Connor was clearly suffering from stick-up-the-ass-syndrome and wouldn’t shut up about this girl in his Constitutional Law class.

“She reminds me so much of Laurel,” Connor grumbled, scribbling furiously in his notes. “Just, sitting quietly in class and only popping up to answer a question when another student can’t think fast enough. Ugh.” He shook his head with an eye roll. Asher’s gaze darted quickly to the bathroom, where Laurel had gone to not two minutes ago.

“Hey man.” Asher leaned forward. “That’s not cool, we’re all friends here.”

Connor scoffed and said nothing else, tapping the end of his pencil to the files he was looking through.

“Yeah, and you’re my _bestie_ ,” Connor replied, sarcasm evident and heavy.

“Someone clearly needs a dick in his mouth,” Michaela quipped, making everyone’s heads turn to her. Asher had undoubtedly influenced her carefully constructed vocabulary and it made Connor wince.

“You’re disgusting,” Connor deadpanned, pointing his pencil to her for emphasis.

“Knock, knock,” a deep, cool voice came from the foyer. Four heads (and one Laurel reentering from the bathroom), focused in on Oliver walking in.

“Hey, Oliver,” Michaela politely greeted, side-eyeing Connor and finding it both utterly pathetic and adorable how instantly Connor’s entire demeanor shifted at the presence of the older man.

Connor lit up like Christmas. He smiled, showing teeth, and his eyebrows shot up, unguarded and happily surprised.

“Hey, Ollie,” Connor’s voice even changed, softer, gross. He set aside his work and stood, walking up to Oliver and stuffing his hands in his pockets, like he’d reach out and grab him otherwise.

Oliver was smiling too. He always smiled. 

“Thought I’d come pick you up. It’s getting late and… uh, I made dinner,” Oliver mumbled the last part, probably hoping the other students didn’t hear.

Connor’s smile widened impossibly and the room all groaned together, disgusted by the pure, unadulterated _affection_ oozing out of Connor.


	20. At a lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written while nostalgic about upstate NY. rated G

Oliver in swim trunks was a gift from the gods.

Connor had to bite his lip as he watched Oliver pull himself up onto the pier, which was at least a couple feet from the water’s dark surface. The strength required to pull yourself up from the tension of the water was something Oliver had plenty to spare (thanks frequent gym visits).

Connor was sitting on the pier’s edge, feet dangling in the water and leaning back on his hands, grinning as Oliver plopped down beside him with a satisfied sigh. Connor watched Oliver from the corner of his eye. His arm muscles were bulging, fresh from the workout of swimming in the water. His hair was flat and splayed across the top of his head and he smelled vaguely of mud and grass, earthy.

The sun was setting and Connor was just appreciating the last amount of sunlight and summer heat to dry himself off. Oliver’s skin absorbed the orange glow of the sun, making the water droplets on his body flicker and the color of his skin shine. It was enough to make Connor lick his lips.

“This was a good idea,” Oliver started, getting Connor’s attention fully. He probably hadn’t been aware of his boyfriend watching him. “Taking a few days off in New York. I didn’t know the Adirondacks would be so fun.”

Connor smiled, leaning sideways to rest his head on Oliver’s shoulder, looking out across the water. Connor’s mom was raised in upstate New York, it was the only reason he knew such beauty and wilderness existed. It had been a random thought from out of nowhere, when Oliver suggested taking a weekend off for themselves… Connor had an inkling Oliver would enjoy the pine trees and dirt paths, and of course the lakes.

“I don’t want to go back,” Connor murmured, shifting even closer to Oliver so their sides pressed together warmly. “We’ll have to come back here…”

“Agreed,” Oliver softly replied turning his head and capturing Connor’s lips in a soft kiss.


	21. Sexting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot this one! Behold my very first baby step into the world of smut lmao. I was so innocent... Rated M.

_What are you wearing right now?_

_Connor, I’m in the middle of a meeting._

_Are you seated at one of those long tables that take up the whole room?_

… _yes?_

_Imagine fucking me on it._

Oliver’s eyes flicked up to look down the length of the solid oak table, which currently seated an array of businessmen and women, dressed in suits and listening intently to the presentation given by their executive. It was dark in the room save for the projected image on the smart board, which illustrated the need for better web security and what to do about proxy servers…. something like that. Oliver was suddenly tuning out, the people disappearing, their seats empty, the brief image Connor supplied replacing everything.

Oliver grinned, checking inconspicuously to make sure no one noticed his phone out, turning the brightness down all the way, and quickly tapped out a reply.

_I’d bend you over the edge first, pull your pants down and grab your perky little ass. I’d spread you open and shove my tongue past your tiny hole, I’d get in there deep. You’d like that?_

Oliver pressed the phone screen to his thigh, looking back up to pay attention, trying to focus on the paper chart in front of him that corresponded with the presentation his CEO was giving. His pulse was racing and Oliver had to bite his lip to keep from smiling, eager to see how Connor would respond.

Oliver didn’t even have time to understand what his boss was going on about when he felt his phone vibrate. The lock screen indicated he had a picture message and his breath hitched before he even swiped. Carefully looking side to side, Oliver unlocked his phone, feeling like a kid in class hiding from the professor but he was far too curious to see the picture.

Oliver choked back a gasp, shoving the phone between his thighs and snapping his head back up, hoping no one saw what was currently making arousal stir in his lower half.

The picture was an aerial shot from Connor’s naked chest to his groin, showing off his wonderfully firm abs and stomach, as well as a fully erect penis, high and proud.

Oliver took another sneaky glance at the tantalizing selfie, swallowing hard and pushing his thumb up the screen, reading a short accompanying text:

_I’d like that very much._

Oliver smirked, losing himself again in the daydream.

_I’d fuck you with my tongue, bringing you to the edge before stopping, leaving your cock hard and pulsing for release._

_You’re always such a fucking tease, Ollie._

Oliver licked his lips, reading the response. He was about to continue when another one came in:

_When did you get so good at this?_

Oliver rolled his eyes, the spell momentarily broken. He ignored his phone for a moment, needing to actually pay attention to the meeting. Connor had a point, the first time they had tried to sext Oliver was not having it, ignoring the messages or sending responses that could definitely be considered a cock-block. But once they got more comfortable around each other, their relationship deepening, Oliver worked up the courage to try it more often, his responses short and non-descriptive. Connor never complained though (Oliver figured, now, that Connor was just happy Oliver was finally playing the game; tossing the ball back).

In fact Connor always responded exuberantly, using pics and filthy words that made Oliver want to wash his eyes out with bleach sometimes, he silently thanked Connor for not being that vulgar in the bedroom.

After four years together, with half that time indulging in on-and-off sexting, Oliver was finally becoming confident in his abilities to render his boyfriend speechless, and hard as a rock.

Oliver was taking notes when his phone buzzed again. He finished up his sentence and checked, noticing another picture text.

He opened it, Connor’s face greeting him. His scruff needed trimming and his hair was wild, like he just woke up, and he was glaring. Oliver chuckled softly.

_You’re totally leaving me hanging here._

_Connor, as much as I would love to pick you up and throw you on this table, crawl over you and fuck you into it, I’m in the middle of a very important conference with the CEO of my company and I can’t afford to be daydreaming about this._

Oliver sent it and then began typing out a follow-up.

_Even though I’d grab your cock, appreciating how thick and long it is in my hand, and stroke it in time with my thrusts, making you cum all over yourself and the pretty hardwood, while I release inside you. But I wouldn’t stop, I’d continue fucking your ass until I’ve made a mess of both of us._

Oliver’s pulse was racing but he hit send before he second guessed himself. He’d never been so chatty during these sessions. But honestly he was missing Connor. This was a week long convention that had originally been only two days and both men were suffering from it.

_Fuck, Ollie. You better kiss me after all that._

If possible, Oliver’s dick got more excited, straining now against his slacks.

_I’m aching to kiss you. I want to kiss you right now, on your legs, knees, stomach, chest, arms, mouth. I want to mark every inch of you with my lips. I miss you so much._

A couple minutes passed before a third image came in. It was a glorious shot of Connor’s stomach covered in murky white. Oliver licked his lips before biting them, keeping in a groan of pleasure as another wave of heat flared in his lower belly, making his hips thrust forward slightly.

_I miss you too… 3 more days?_

Oliver sighed sadly.

_Yep, 3 more days. Then I’m all yours._

_You’re all mine._ Connor agreed. _I need you so bad._

Oliver’s head weakly lifted as the conference seemed to be coming to an end.

_I love you. I’ll call you tonight._

Connor’s responding text came lightning fast:

_I love you too._


	22. Reunion kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking out ratings unless it's M. Have a coliver kiss after they've been away from each other for a year. One of my personal faves <3

Connor huffed, tapping his fingers against his thigh, craning his neck this way and that, peering over the mass of hair and hats as he attempted to single out a familiar face. He started bouncing on the balls of his feet, head snapping to the arrivals board and back to the gate where Oliver would be exiting from _any second now_.

A 6-month business trip to Japan was already hard enough to deal with, especially with Oliver carefully bringing it up to Connor, practically asking for his permission. Connor wanted to say no, he’d hoped that through the years living with Oliver that his clingy, protective hold over Oliver would eventually dissipate, but it had only gotten stronger. But Connor was practicing, he was trying to be a good fiance; allowing Oliver more freedom in his life, as the older man always granted upon Connor. So he had swallowed down the urge to force Oliver to stay, and instead let excitement travel through him, because this was a fantastic opportunity for Oliver, he’d be making huge connections overseas, not to mention the paychecks he’d be bringing home.

So Connor enthusiastically told Oliver to go, that he’d be fine. They had Skype, after all. It was when Oliver sighed in relief, his shoulders relaxing, that Connor knew that Oliver wanted to go all along.

But when Oliver called a few months in and informed Connor that the 6-month trip had extended to a year, Connor flipped shit.

“ _What could they possibly need you there another 6 months for, Oliver?”_

“ _They offered me a job, Connor!” Oliver’s happiness slipped through the frustrated clip in his voice. “It pays 10k a_ month, _please tell me how I’m supposed to say no to that?”_

Connor had been raking his fingers through his carefully combed hair, clutching and pulling at the roots painfully as he attempted to collect himself at work.

And after a few more exchanges about how they’d stay in touch, about their future and what this money could do for them, and general placating from Oliver, Connor gave a resigned sigh, agreeing that this would be for the best.

They discussed holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, but it never worked out. Both their schedules too hectic to even consider taking a _day_ off, so they settle with Skype video chats: Connor showing Oliver on Christmas how he decorated the apartment, Oliver showing Conner the 2-foot tree he had set up on a table in his closet apartment.

Connor never told Oliver how he cried himself to sleep the night Oliver’s scent finally left his pillow, how he had let the apartment become a mess of discarded clothes and paper work and dishes in the sink. He didn’t tell Oliver about the countless nights spent curled up in bed, wearing Oliver’s pajamas and clicking through photos of him on his phone over and over again while he waited for his Good Morning Text from Oliver.

He did tell Oliver about how he won his first major case; a man sentenced to death row for a crime he didn’t commit. The trail had lasted _months,_ Connor working himself to the bone as new evidence arose and was quickly shot down. Oliver congratulated him in Japanese and they had incredible, teasing phone sex that they’d never been able to pull off since.

At the airport, Connor’s heart stops, constraining his chest with a painful halt before kicking back up again in double time. His eyes meet Oliver’s and it’s like the world around him vanishes.

Oliver’s changed. His usual coke bottle glasses have been replaced with thin, astute rectangular frames. His hair is combed back, revealing a receding hairline, and he’s wearing a suit Connor’s never seen before; sky blue with a green tie.

There’s a lump in Connor’s throat at the pure, inexplicable look of joy and relief and _love_ that Oliver’s face constricts into. He can’t swallow or close his stinging eyes as he feels his heavy feet step forward, pushing past people he can’t see or feel before he notices that Oliver is also making his way to him.

Connor breaks out into a sprint at a sudden disperse in the crowd, causing people to quickly move out of his way. There’s an amused smile splitting across Oliver’s lips that’s short lived as Connor finally closes the distance between them in a collision that makes Oliver stumble back, their arms immediately wrapping around each other, strong and tight, like they’ll disappear otherwise.

A small, delighted yelp breaks from Connor’s lungs as Oliver’s arms wind around his waist especially tight and he’s lifted off the ground a few inches in a powerful hug before he’s gently set back down. There’s no space between them; every curve and dip melded together like puzzle pieces, Connor’s arms around Oliver’s shoulders and Oliver’s wound around Connor’s hips.

Connor wonders if Oliver can feel his smile against his skin, nuzzling his head in the crook of Oliver’s neck.

“God, I can’t believe I forgot what you smelled like,” Oliver whispers against Connor’s ear, dragging his lips up and into Connor’s hair, pressing kisses along the way. Connor shudders pleasantly as Oliver’s nose works it’s way into Connor’s thick hair.

“Ditto,” Connor sighs, unwilling to move his head from Oliver’s warm neck. It’s hard to break apart, even though the need to look Oliver in the face is painful, Connor’s arms refuse to relax. Everything is so familiar now, so comfortable as old, almost forgotten sensations and feelings return to Connor in a combination of euphoric and somber emotions well up inside him.

Oliver’s hands move first, never breaking contact as they slide up Connor’s back and into his hairline, tender and soft fingers caressing his scalp. It makes Connor’s fingers unclench from the material of Oliver’s jacket.

“ _Ollie_ ,” Connor says softly, finally pulling his face from the juncture of Oliver’s shoulder and neck. He doesn’t get very far, their noses brushing. “You look good,” Connor whispers, afraid to speak any louder and disturb this moment between them.

They lean in for a kiss at the same time, Connor tilting his head slightly to connect their lips perfectly, soft and slow and evocative. Connor never wants to forget this, never wants to forget how Oliver’s warm lips feel against his own, how his kisses never fail to make butterflies swarm in Connor’s stomach, the heat it always inflicts and makes Connor want more.

Oliver’s lips part, tongue darting out and licking the seam of Connor’s mouth. Connor’s jaw drops and surges forward with a moan that could be mistaken for a whine of desperation, their tongues slipping together more erotic than it’s ever felt.

Oliver’s soft caress turns harsh as his fingers burrow in Connor’s hair, gripping the thick strands like he’s holding on for dear life as the kiss deepens, lips moving with more urgent aggression, the people around them forgotten.

Connor’s hands slowly travel down Oliver’s sides, dipping past his jacket to find better purchase along Oliver’s ribs, thumbs pressing roughly against the cotton of his dress shirt. Oliver’s moan is muffled in Connor’s mouth as Connor continues further, clutching at Oliver’s belt to force his hands from moving any lower, pulling so Oliver’s pelvis slots along his own.

Oliver gasps wetly, pulling back only so their lips brush, foreheads resting together. Tasting Oliver’s hot breath nearly knocks Connor off his feet, and he figures Oliver feels something similar with the way his body sways against his, eyes dark.

“Connor, Connor, _Connor_ ,” Oliver mumbles, chanting in broken whispers. His hands slip from the top of Connor’s head to cup his face, exchanging another chaste kiss.

Connor’s eyes have slipped shut again as their lips press together again and again in tiny kisses.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” Connor begs between kisses.

“No,” Oliver agrees, a smile stretching his mouth up. “I’m here to stay.”


	23. Coda: 3.02 Arriving at Michaela's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaking format... I'm gonna post all my codas in a row just so they're all lumped together.

Connor shuffled in, keeping his eyes down. The silence in the room was heavy, punctuated with the wheels of Connor’s suitcase rolling over Michaela’s hardwood floor. He pulled up the suitcase to stand next to the coffee table before dropping to the couch, the objects in his arms tumbling to the cushions and floor.

Michaela was next to him in an instant, her thigh brushing his.

“Do you wanna talk?”

“No… I just want to sleep. Or drink.” He mumbled to his knees, trying to compose himself. He hadn’t expected Asher to be here. But that was the furthest thing from his mind.

“I have red wine.” Michaela stood as she spoke, moving to the kitchen.

Connor sighed, sniffling and leaning back against the plush cushions of the couch. His head angled back, eyes slipping shut. He couldn’t get the last couple hours out of his head. Memories already burned and scarred behind his retinas of the kiss that he shouldn’t have done. Of Oliver crying on the couch, sitting there while Connor threw random armfuls of clothes into his suitcase.

Connor hadn’t even been looking at what he grabbed, his vision blurry as he held back tears of his own.

“Wait,” Asher’s voice broke through the tension. “What happened?”

Connor’s brows furled. His jaw dropped and he hated how broken his voice was as he spoke, “What do you _think_ happened?”

Michaela returned with two glasses and a bottle, sitting next to Connor again and pouring the wine.

“Drink,” she commanded. Connor’s eyes cracked open and was met with a full glass of dark liquid.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Connor sat up, accepting the offer and taking a wide gulp, wincing afterwards and swallowing the urge to cough.

Asher hovered awkwardly near them, his arms crossed. He was never good at comforting people, not that Connor needed any of that from Asher.

Connor moved the stemware in tiny circles, watching the liquid slosh around gracefully. Nothing about this breakup made sense… and at the same time it made perfect sense. This case with Irene opened his eyes, made him come face-to-face with how harsh reality could be. How keeping secrets pushes people away. Oliver was smart in leaving Connor… it wasn’t selfish, he’s just trying to do the right thing.

Connor more than loves Oliver… he holds on to him, keeping him close for his own sanity. Oliver was right about constantly doing what people wanted of him. Oliver was a giver, he was empathetic, always ready to listen. And he never pried, he always let Connor lead and would let important topics drop when Connor would evade them.

A breakup was bound to happen, now that Connor thinks about it. He’s the one who’d been too greedy with Oliver’s selflessness, _he’s_ the one who refused to be truthful for fear of rejection.

And because of his silence, he lost Oliver.


	24. Coda: 3.02 Oliver mulls over the breakup

There are things no one warns you about a break up.

You hear about heartache, and guilt and regret. How the pain in your chest, in your very being won’t be going away any time soon. But there are other, smaller things (which are actually big) that happens.

Like waking up in the morning alone.

When Oliver rolled over and only felt empty space, instead of a warm body to cuddle, he’d forgotten where he was. The short days that had passed since his decision flooded into Oliver’s head, causing his eyes to slip shut again, hoping for more sleep.

But instead he thought of Connor. Not of the reasons why he broke up with him, nor their problematic, undisclosed issues, but how adorable he was, waking up in the morning. He remembered Connor’s sleepy smile, crooked mouth and too much teeth, hiding in Oliver’s neck. Oliver remembers how crazy Connor’s hair was getting, and how it would brush along his face, tickling his nose.

Oliver gasped sharply, his eyes flying open. He had dozed off. He looked down and cursed at himself, unclenching the pillow in his arms and returning it to prop against the headboard.

No one tells you about morning rituals being obliterated.

Oliver made too much coffee, a full pot instead of just enough for himself. He also hadn’t realized until he set his favorite mug down that he had also taken out Connor’s.

It wasn’t actually Connor’s mug, but it’d grown to be. It was the first cup Oliver had set out for him during their first night (unofficially) back together. It was large and green, not one of Oliver’s favorites, so he was happy to put it to use.

Oliver thought about throwing it away. He picked it up, turning it around in his hand before sighing, shaking his head and shoving it back into the cabinet, wincing as it clanked along the other dishware.

After some milk and sugar, Oliver turned and slumped into a chair at the kitchen island, placing the full mug on the surface with a little too much force. With elbows propped up on the counter top, his head fell into his hands. He stared into the brown liquid like it’d give him all the answers.

He broke up with Connor. It was the right thing to do, they needed space, _he_ needed space. Space to think clearly without distraction, without letting his feelings influence decisions. The breakup was something he’d been mulling over for the past 3 months, watching how Connor would talk, his twitches and distressed moans during sleep, watching him while they made love, the only time he witnessed Connor’s eyes unguarded and honest.

It was no wonder Connor liked to evade cryptic or important topics with sex; it was basically his safe place. Sex was something Connor could do and forget everything, and for Oliver, pretending everything was okay… because they loved each other, body and soul. Was that not enough?

No… Oliver sighed, bringing one hand down to touch the mug’s handle. There was something else between them, something big, he could sense it around Connor. The way he averted his eyes when Oliver would ask about his future, after law school. When Oliver would want to chat about school or work or his friends. Connor wasn’t being honest with him about something… and he thought… maybe if he came clean about the Stanford email, Connor would humor him, so to speak, and tell him the truth.

The truth being what? Oliver didn’t know. He’d agreed to himself that if Connor wanted to talk it out, he’d stay. But if Connor was going to continue being silent and broody… then Oliver would end it.

So he did.

And now look at him.


	25. Coda: 3.04 The episode in Oliver's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna link a very similar fic to this by (I believe it was) bellabonbon (it's fantastic, so much better than mine), but I went to their profile and they deleted all their coliver works! Noooo :( 
> 
> 3.04 was the episode where Connor was sleeping around and they went to Wes' birthday. It was very Connor heavy and not a lot of Oliver was shown, and I was kinda annoyed by that and wanted to explore his side of the breakup.

Oliver was tired.

He dragged himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes until he saw spots and groaning. He performed his morning routine: shower, get dressed, breakfast, meds, find something else that Connor had left in his apartment…

This time it was the hazelnut coffee creamer Connor liked, and Oliver hated. It had been shoved to the back of the fridge. Oliver grabbed it with a harsh sigh from his nose, shaking his head as he walked to the sink and dumped it out, chucking it into the recycling bin afterwards.

His phone chimed, announcing he had a message on his Humpr app. It was from Derek, a guy he had been exchanging messages with for a couple days now. He was attractive, talkative… Oliver didn’t know what to say when he had asked Oliver to come over last night, so he responded with a brief explanation that he was HIV positive. It wasn’t him declining the invite, but Oliver figured that was a pretty important detail to mention before hooking up with anyone. Derek hadn’t responded so Oliver figured that was that.

But when he opened up the app and read the message, he frowned.

“ _You’re positive? Why don’t you put that shit in your bio, stop wasting my time.”_

“Nice,” Oliver muttered aloud, turning his phone volume off and pocketing the device with an eye roll.

* * *

Oliver walked into the clinic, unable to keep the frown from his face as he slipped the messenger bag down, pulling his laptop out and setting it on his desk. His head hurt, his body felt heavy, and he felt so fucking tired.

“Hi, um, Mr. Hampton?”

Oliver looked up, a girl, probably a first year, hovered at his desk. “Yes?”

“Uh, I was wondering if you could help me navigate through the digital archives. I’m not sure where to start…”

“Yeah, of course!” Oliver cracked a smile, pushing his personal problems to the back of his head to focus on work.

Helping graduate students was his job now. Oliver would rummage through old case studies online, find legally obtainable evidence for class reports, explain video file codecs and timecode for when a student wanted to find out if footage was altered…

This isn’t what Oliver had in mind when he asked Annalise for a job. He wanted a thrill, to test his skills and push the boundaries in scripting and code and proxy servers… not, helping 20-something year olds write research papers. He might as well go back to working in an office… at least there he’d be surround by people closer to him in age, who he could be dragged out to bars with and try to mingle with single men.

Yeah, right.

Soon Connor and the gang filtered into the room, exhaustion clear on their faces. They had obviously just got back from the court house. They all took seats at a table near his desk and Oliver sighed, grabbing his notepad and phone, leaning on his desk to better face his friends.

Connor’s phone sang with that familiar notification and Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. Of course Connor was on Humpr. Of course he was having sex with other men. That’s all Connor Walsh did; have sex and distance himself from his problems. What a healthy fucking existence that is. Oliver opened his eyes and tried to focus on Asher’s nonsensical babble to take notes from.

“Oliver made his bed, I’m just sleeping in it.”

“You know he can hear you.”

_Jesus Christ._

“I don’t mind.” All eyes were on Oliver and he wanted to choke. “Really. He’s single, sex is a healthy part of that,” he spoke robotically, forcing a shrug. He didn’t miss how Connor sat with his back to him.

“Besides, I’m on Humpr, too.”

Michaela took his phone and he just smiled at the tables shared opinion on her taste in men. It was kinda funny, but mostly he didn’t need the people Connor hung around with the most to see that this whole situation was bothering him.

Connor had been giving him the cold shoulder lately. Ever since that chat in the car last week. Maybe asking to be friends with his ex was too much, fine. But pretending Oliver wasn’t there and keeping his phone volume cranked to announce every time he got a Humpr message was giving Oliver tics. He didn’t know what Connor was doing, trying to get back at him for the breakup or trying to make him jealous… either way it was antagonizing and childish.

“You should hack into the disciplinary board emails, find out who sent that file,” Michaela chirped and Oliver’s shoulders sunk. He wanted to go home.

By the time night fell, Oliver wondered if he’d get away with leaving early. The group was to themselves as usual, no one was coming to his desk for help… hell, Oliver was playing solitaire on his laptop to pass the time.

They were talking about the case, so Oliver tuned them out, rubbing the space between his eyebrows and willing his headache to go away. When he heard Connor’s phone chime, _again_ , with that annoying Humpr notification, Oliver dropped his hand loudly, glaring over at Connor.

“You’ve got a problem,” Michaela stated as Connor gathered up his things.

“No, I got game.” Connor shot a look at Oliver, as if to make sure he was watching him leave. Oliver held eye contact until he was out the door, dropping his gaze to the floor and wondering why he felt dead inside.

The rest of the night dragged on, Michaela eagerly tiptoeing to Oliver as more students left for the night and begging him to do some hacking. Oliver complied, as usual, hating himself for it. Even without Connor in the picture, he was still doing shit for other people.

And somehow Michaela was even starting to bother him, reading off men way out of his league, or just not worth his time. _Bareback… seriously? Stop it, Michaela._ Thank god he snatched his phone back before she could match him.

The next day wasn’t any better. Same old shit, different day. Oliver worked for a school and Connor was audibly getting laid. _Buh-lip, buh-lip._

The party for Wes served a good distraction from his wandering, dark thoughts. Being surrounded by happy people no doubt helped… and the booze.

But he’d finally had enough of Connor and that stupid phone.

“Sorry, there’s a lot of guys in this building,” Connor drawled, eyes glued to his phone. Oliver shook his head.

“Half of whom you’ll probably bang by the end of the night,” Oliver muttered darkly, looking away from Connor and tilting his bottle up.

From then on he felt Connor’s gaze on him, watching him, visibly fretting. Oliver ignored him, forcing himself to interact, keep occupied. A wave of blasé washed over him in that moment, a battle of self-worth and longing raging inside his head pressed down by a disinterested calm. Connor wasn’t getting it. And Oliver really needed to stop thinking about him, since Connor was _so obviously_ not pining for him any longer.

But then Connor finally approached him while Oliver made a drink.

“Hey, um… are you hooking up with Simon?”

Oliver looked over at Connor, a sarcastic smile slipping through. _Really? That’s whats been bothering him?_

“No. I’m not hooking up with anyone. That’s just you and the entire city of Philadelphia.” Oliver kept focus on his drink, he didn’t know what his tone was. A little sarcastic, a little envious. Why was the first thing Connor bothered asking him all day was if he was sleeping with someone?

“Okay, I’m confused.” Connor huffed a short laugh. “You’re on Humpr, too.”

“Michaela’s on my Humpr,” Oliver clarified with an edge of humor. Because Connor and him had exchanged two sentences and he already wanted to leave. Or to shut Connor up… somehow.

“So, you’re not mad at me?” Connor questioned quickly. Oliver lifted his head, capping the tequila. Was this was Connor was getting at? Did he think Oliver was _just_ mad at him?

“It’s not that simple.”

“Because I’m willing to stop sleeping around if you want to get back together. Is that it? Changed your mind?”

Connor spoke fast, like he was unsure… or being honest. Connor always rambled when he was nervous, speaking so fast that sometimes his words morphed together and it was hard to understand him. Oliver picked up his drink, turning to face Connor.

He was partially right. Watching Connor constantly get laid was painful. How could it not be? They’d been together for almost a year, been faithful to one another and shared stories and made love and cuddled on the couch… he’d known it was going to happen eventually, Connor putting himself back on the market. But knowing it was happening and Connor bragging about it happening were two very different things.

Connor raised his eyebrows at Oliver’s silence. “Great.” But he didn’t sound enthused. “Then we can both… screw our brains out.”

Oliver leaned his head back in exasperation, staring at the ceiling. “It’s not as easy for me to hook up as it is for you.” And it was true. He hadn’t been on Humpr all day, tired of the stigma he carried with him of being HIV positive. How the men he was even remotely interested in turned him down before a conversation could start.

Connor almost interrupted him with a groan. “God, you need to get over this low self-esteem thing.”

Oliver stared blankly at Connor, his shoulders dropping. _Still not getting it…_

“I mean, you’re– you’re hot, funny, your penis is practically perfect.”

_Oh God, just stop._

“None of that matters if you’re positive.”

Connor looked to the floor awkwardly. Oliver shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His mouth opening again.

“I know what you’re going to say: There’s condoms and Prep and I shouldn’t let it bother me…” Oliver looked past Connor shoulder, unsure why he was unloading on Connor with such a dejected tone. He’d always felt like Connor was the only one he could talk to about this, who’d understand where he was coming from, but here he was. His ex-boyfriend, still thinking about himself, still needing Oliver to explain that it was more than “the low self-esteem thing.”

“… But it’s still a deal breaker for most guys.” Oliver finished, his voice wavering.

“Stupid guys…” Connor said softly, bringing his eyes up from the floor to look at Oliver.

Oliver smiled, a little sarcastically. “Oh, yeah? So, if I had told you I was positive the first night we met, you still would’ve gone home with me?” He didn’t miss how, not halfway into his question Connor’s eyes drifted away from him. It stung.

Oliver clicked his tongue, pointing a finger at Connor. He’d never brought attention to it before, but suddenly Oliver could see their age gap, the maturity levels between them. He had 5 years on Connor, which isn’t a lot, but he was done with college. Oliver had a full time job and his own apartment, his own car, bills and medical expenses and a mother who was wondering when he’d settle down and get married. Self-esteem and the disease aside, Oliver just didn’t have the time or effort to sleep around even if he wanted to.

Connor was awkwardly looking anywhere but into Oliver’s eyes and he sighed, gesticulating lightly. “Look, you… hook up as much as you want. Just maybe don’t rub it in my face.” _Because can’t you see how much that’s hurting me? How it’s making me lose respect for you? How low you’re sinking…_

Connor nodded. “Yeah. I’ll stop,” he said softly. Oliver nodded too, his eyes lingering on Connor before taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m willing to rub other things in your face anytime you want, though.”

Oliver snickered, his lips stretching up widely as he chuckled. He shouldn’t laugh, but he really did miss Connor. His flirting and making Oliver feel wanted. Oliver hadn’t cracked a genuine smile in a while, and he was having mixed feelings about it coming from a bad pickup line from Connor.

Who’s phone chimed at that exact moment.

_Ruined._

Connor’s mouth hung open, clearly embarrassed. “I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s…” Oliver kept his smile on, faking it as he gave Connor an exaggerated thumbs up, walking past him and clapping his shoulder.

He tipped the cup high and downed his drink quickly, walking up to Wes and wishing him a happy birthday again and briefly explaining he had to go.

* * *

The next morning found Oliver in a cafe near campus. It was Saturday, but work never seemed to end. Annalise was constantly throwing paper work at him, flash drives of disorganized video and pictures to go with all of them. Sometimes he thought about hacking into Annalise’s computer just for fun, but knew that was a bad idea.

He took a sip from his coffee, setting it back on the table’s surface and looking up from his laptop, watching a familiar face enter the cafe.

“Oh, hey, Oliver,” Michaela greeted, walking up to him with a wobble in her step. “God, I’m so hungover, how about you?”

Oliver cracked a grin. She’d been drinking a lot at the party, no surprise there.

“I’m pretty good, actually.” Oliver nodded, chuckling lightly as Michaela groaned. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Nah, I got it,” she said, turning away from the table. “Thanks, though.”

Oliver nodded, watching as she placed her order and waited.

When she joined him at the table Oliver shut his computer, setting it off to the side.

“So,” Oliver started, taking another sip from his coffee, which was going cold. “Any plans for today?”

Michaela sighed, bringing her legs up and crossing them on the small chair she sat on. “Gotta head to the library later, doing some research for another class.”

Oliver hummed, nodding his head. He stared down into his almost empty cup, drumming his fingers on the ceramic handle. The talk with Connor last night helped clear some of the depressing fog in his brain, but Oliver still couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering if he went home with somebody after the party…

“So, I saw you and Connor talking last night…” Michaela started. Oliver looked up at her, sighing and slouching in his seat a bit.

“…Did you finally tell him to stop being so obnoxious?”

Oliver laughed dryly at that. “Kind of. Let’s hope he actually sticks to his word this time.”

Michaela nodded like _fat chance_ and it made Oliver roll his eyes in humor. She took her phone out and checked on something, taking a sip of her drink, before speaking again.

“Hey, did you want to… talk about something?” She asked carefully, setting her phone face-down on the table. “I’m sorry for going through your Humpr… I just can’t stand Connor happily announcing his conquests while you’re buried in paperwork.”

Oliver smiled softly. “It’s fine, I don’t really feel like hooking up with anyone anyway.”

Michaela nodded, resting her chin in her hands.

Oliver sighed, looking out the window, his tapping fingers increasing in rhythm.

“But… there is something I want to talk about, but I’m not sure who to talk about it _with._..”

Michaela straightened up. “I’m here, you can talk to me about anything.”

Oliver brought his lips in. He wasn’t sure about that…

He looked around the cafe, finding no one else he recognized from Connor’s small circle of friends.

Oliver blew a sigh out his mouth, shaking his head. “Okay, but I need you to swear that you won’t tell anyone this… especially Connor.”

Michaela _pssh’_ d “Why would I tell him anything?”

“Because you’re his friend,” Oliver said obviously. “He really trusts you, so I need your word you won’t tell a soul what I’m about to say.”

Michaela fell silent, maybe understanding that she was about to temporarily become Oliver’s therapist… his silent therapist. Oliver just needed to voice his concerns, they were building up inside of him ready to burst. In what form, Oliver didn’t want to know; screwing a stranger, begging Connor back, hacking into Annlise’s files… Oliver just, really needed someone to talk to.

Michaela nodded. “Okay, I promise.”

Oliver nodded as well, casting his gaze to the table as he fiddled with his coffee mug some more.

“Connor is hiding something from me. I don’t know what it is, but he makes it too obvious. And when I ask him about it, he avoids the topic,” he started in a rush, speaking to the table.

“You know how Connor’s face is an open book, it’s always obvious when something is bothering him. And he’s been wearing this expression for a while, before I broke up with him… this faraway look, unfocused. It’s weird.” Oliver shook his head. His thoughts weren’t together. He fell silent, trying to collect his ramblings so they could make sense to Michaela.

“So I retaliated by deleting his acceptance email into Stanford… Did he tell you guys that?”

Michaela looked shocked. “He… he got in?”

Oliver nodded. Not that it mattered anymore. He was honestly surprised Connor hadn’t told them, seeing how he was having fun putting all this on Oliver.

“Why…” Michaela pulled her hair behind her ear. “So you deleted the email because Connor was looking funny?”

Oliver laughed without humor. “Because of how he had been behaving through our entire relationship. Hear me out.”

Michaela nodded, clasping her hands in her lap.

Oliver pulled a hand through his hair. “I also quit my job to work for Annalise because I knew he wouldn’t like it. I wanted him to open up to me. I was creating reasons for him to get mad and talk to me, because whenever I try, he wouldn’t listen or he’d change the subject or offer sex instead and I just… went along with it. And I was done. I can’t be in a relationship like that.

“I’m not expecting Connor to read my mind… I’m waiting for him to _realize_ that he’s the reason I broke up with him; he needs to figure it out. I can’t just tell him ‘oh, it’s because you’re keeping secrets from me,’ he’ll deny it. He’ll lie. I don’t know why he thinks he has to lie to me… but he does, I can feel it.”

“You can’t know that-”

“He’s keeping something from me, Michaela,” Oliver said firmly, looking into her eyes. “And he needs to come to me about it, I can’t start anything. I can’t confront him, he’ll just apologize or run away and I’m not having it. He needs to grow up and learn how to be in a relationship before we can be together again.”

Oliver took a deep breath, his rant over. Michaela’s eyes were guarded, her spine straight.

“Does that make any sense?”

Michaela nodded stiffly. “You broke up with him… because he wasn’t being honest.”

Oliver nodded. “I realize what I’ve done, wasn’t the best idea. But it seems Connor only functions at high levels, if you know what I mean. He never admits anything or talks about serious issues unless we’re fighting about them. So I figured… he’d get mad about Stanford, and we’d finally talk it out. But nope… he just apologized to me. _To me_!” Oliver shrieked in a whisper.

“I love him so much,” Oliver deflated. “But he doesn’t understand what it takes to be in a trusting relationship, to be honest and rational. Maybe it’s not my place to initiate a breakup, but it had to be done. He wasn’t giving me what I wanted the most. I don’t know, I’m rambling…”

A silence fell between them. Oliver sighed loudly, sinking back in his seat.

“So, you do want him back?” Michaela asked timidly.

Oliver’s answer was immediate. “More than anything…” He sucked in a breath. “But not right now. Not until he comes to me and sincerely wants to talk.”

Michaela nodded, her eyes darting everywhere.

“Michaela…” Oliver got her attention. She looked nervous, and that made Oliver’s blood run cold with regret. “Please don’t tell Connor we had this conversation. He needs to come to this realization himself.”

She looked down to her coffee, touching the cup before wrapping her hands around it, bringing it up to her lips and answering softly.

“I promise.”


	26. Coda: 3.05 Oliver finds Connor after the fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Annalise's house burns down and there's a confirmation of a body but we don't know who's dead. Oliver worries over his last meeting with Connor and where he is.

Oliver felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness, exhausted in every definition of the word. He pulled his low-battery phone out to check the time: 3:48am, and Meggy hadn’t come back out with updates on Laurel.

He rubbed his eyes, Connor was still nowhere to be found. All Michaela said was that he’d taken off around 10 and she hadn’t heard from him since. Well, that part was obvious now, wasn’t it?

Oliver pocketed his phone and pulled out Connor’s, stroking the edges. Connor would be fine… everything would be okay… He couldn’t lose Connor after what happened last night.

“ _Are you sure about this?” Connor gasped as Oliver tore open his button down, finding his mouth again and kissing Connor fiercely._

_Oliver slammed Connor against a wall in Michaela’s apartment, pressing his body flush against him and swallowing the loud moan Connor gave. Michaela was at Asher’s for the night, Connor had told him when he stopped by. They were alone, and the air had been tense between them, heated, electric._

“ _No,” Oliver exhaled the answer. But he needed this, had been craving it for weeks. And God he hated how weak he was, how weak they both were in this moment, touching one another like new lovers, memorizing every dip and curve. But also handling each other in desperation, like this was the last chance they’d have together, and Oliver wanted Connor’s fingers to burn and leave scars all over, to remember the way he vocalized Oliver’s name forever._

“ _We’re doing this?”_

_Connor was giving Oliver an out, a chance to stop and reevaluate the situation, what they were doing, how they both knew, deep down, that it would come back to bite._

_As an answer Oliver took Connor through his pants, pulling his head back to watch Connor’s jaw drop, his eyes shutting in ecstasy before slowly opening again, looking right into Oliver’s eyes before moving with a new purpose, dragging Oliver down onto the couch._

Oliver had left before the sun rose. Before Connor woke up.

He shouldn’t have done it. He should’ve stayed, talked with Connor about what they’d done, but he was scared, frustrated at himself.

Oliver didn’t want that to be his last memory of Connor. He didn’t want that to be Connor’s last memory of _him._

“Everyone out.”

All heads turned to Bonnie, she was standing over them.

“Go home, get some rest,” she sighed, her usual straight shoulders sagging. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Her eyes swung to Oliver and he nodded, slowly standing with everyone else.

* * *

Oliver rolled down the windows of his car, shivering with the cool breeze but needing it to clear his head. Stop thinking about the worst case scenario… that Connor might be…

Oliver shook his head, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. He hadn’t cried in the waiting room, Oliver had been close when Annalise passed him the phone, but he’d managed to keep it together. He still needed to remain calm, at least behind the wheel. Oliver could break down in the safety of his apartment soon… he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

 _Why did I do that?_ Oliver mused, thinking back to the police and ambulance sirens. The heat of the fire and smell of smoke. Annalise eerily calm and passing him her phone. _What was on her phone?_

 _‘No one knows anything yet.’_ She had said, but thinking back on it, Annalise looked stiff, furling her eyebrows and shaking her head…

Oliver was over thinking this. But the news had said they had found a man dead during the house fire.

“Shit,” Oliver croaked, feeling his first tear fall and gripping the steering wheel. _Stop thinking, stop worrying, stop-_

Oliver’s eyes blew wide as he passed a lone figure walking with a stagger on the sidewalk. He peeked in his rear view mirror and recognized that face immediately.

“Connor!”

Oliver smashed his foot down on the brake, his car sliding dangerously into a screeching halt. With shaking hands Oliver put the car in reverse, looking over his seat and precariously backing up, eyes on Connor, who’d stopped walking and stood still, tense, like he’d book it any second now.

Giving up with trying to control his car, Oliver hit the brakes again, clumsily putting his car in Park, unbuckling his seat belt with trembling fingers, and almost falling out after throwing the door open.

Relief poured from every pore of Oliver’s body as he ran to Connor, noting with a twinge of hurt the agony in his eyes, the distrust.

Oliver didn’t care.

He flung himself at Connor, his arms surrounding him at once, almost knocking them over with the impact. His arms were strong and snug around Connor’s neck, pulling them close, so close Oliver could feel how his own body shook against Connor’s.

“Connor, Connor,” Oliver chanted, one hand moving to cling to the younger man’s hair, combing through it and caressing his scalp. His head pressed against Connor’s ear, nosing past and into his hair line, Connor’s long hair tickling and soft and _he was safe_. Connor was here, unharmed, warm and breathing.

“Oliver, wha-” Connor finally stammered, his still arms at his sides finding life and weakly pressing against Oliver’s chest. “What are you doing?”

“Annalise’s house burned down.” Was the first thing Oliver blurted out. Connor’s hands on his chest stopped pushing and laid motionless. Oliver pulled away just far enough to meet Connor’s eyes.

Connor’s mouth moved, like he was trying to find something to say, but coming up silent.

“And someone… someone’s dead, we don’t know who yet. But no one knew where you were, and you didn’t have your phone, and all I could think about was last night and… and how _that was it_ , and-”

“Who’s dead?” Connor cut off Oliver’s rambling, speaking like he just got the wind knocked out of him. His brows were low, suspicious, angry and… drunk.

Oliver slowly pulled his arms off Connor, who looked grateful for the disconnect. Oliver blinked past the watery haze in his eyes and finally saw Connor now, swaying on his feet, eyes unfocused and puffy, red rimmed.

“Are you… drunk?”

Connor rolled his eyes, the motion causing his whole head to turn with it. Oliver swallowed, taking a step back.

“Yes, Oliver. I am drunk. I went out and got drunk,” Connor babbled. “Because you make me do this shit.”

Oliver brought his lips in, frustration and anger replacing everything. The euphoria of finding Connor safe, the self pity of leaving Connor, the confusion over the whole situation, it all vanished.

“I don’t make you do anything, Connor,” Oliver tried to keep his voice even, placid. He would not have it out, here with an intoxicated ex-boyfriend. “You chose to do this.”

“I can do whatever I want, I’m a big boy now, Oliver!” Connor’s lips twitched up, giving that crooked smile Oliver used to love. But it was sarcastic now, a little manic, and wavering like Connor’d start yelling. “And if I want to drink to forget how you walked out on me not once, but _twice,_ then I think I have that right.”

“You’re relapsing!” Oliver shouted, because Connor was shouting now. He took another step back, shaking his head in wild disbelief.

Connor laughed, a dark chuckle, his head falling back and his body turning from side to side.

“Oh my God! I don’t have an addiction.” Connor’s arms swung out wide as his head came back down. “I lied about that. _LIED._ ” Connor shrieked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Oliver swallowed again, a lump forming in his throat and his eyes watering up once more.

Silence stretched between them. Connor’s hysterical features relaxing as his words came back to him, realizing what he’d said and crossing his arms tightly, looking away from Oliver with unease.

Oliver felt numb. Tonight had been the worst experience of his life, the fire, tampering with evidence for Annalise, Laurel in critical condition, panic over Connor’s whereabouts, and now this. It was too much. Oliver didn’t know if he wanted to punch Connor in the face or hold him again, and it was an awful, horrible feeling.

Second after agonizing second passed without an explanation and Oliver finally sighed, rubbing his eyes and cursing softly.

“Get in the car.”

Connor scoffed.”Like I’m going anywhere with you-”

“Get in the fucking car, Connor!” Oliver snapped. Connor looked back at him, apprehensive and stunned silent.

“Fine…” Connor grumbled, tripping over himself as he walked.

Oliver followed, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste blood. Connor let himself in the passenger seat and Oliver waited behind the wheel while Connor fumbled with the seat belt.

“We’re talking about this in the morning,” Oliver said as he started driving again. Fatigue pressed down on him again, he didn’t need to speak, but Oliver was running out of distractions now.

Connor was silent as he stared out the window.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Oliver let out a ragged breath. He felt like collapsing.

“Me too.”


	27. Coda: 3.06 Oliver caves and calls Connor

Oliver groaned softly, pulling his head from the door and letting himself into the apartment, tossing his keys to the coffee table and plopping down on the couch.

Thomas was good. Not what Oliver was expecting, someone sweet and touchy who kissed slow and deep… It’s such a stark contrast from the men he has been talking to that it almost makes Oliver wonder if this is too good to be true (although it’s only been the first date).

Oliver touched his fingers to his lips, pressing softly and shutting his eyes, focusing on the light pressure and the way his lips still tingled. He pursed his lips, kissing the tips of his fingers before letting his hand drop, his head falling back against the couch with a sigh.

Feeling butterflies again was a strange feeling, once you’ve felt them before. The sudden giddy unease fluttering in your stomach surging back to life for a different man… It was strange to kiss Thomas and enjoy it so much. Hanging out with Thomas tonight, kissing him, feeling his warm body against his, gave Oliver ideas…

And while it was sweet and considerate of Thomas to wait for sex until the second date, that’s not what Oliver wanted.

God, it’s been so long since Oliver felt intimate with another man, making love or fucking. He’d gone longer without sex before he met Connor, but while he was with Connor, they had sex every day. To be so sexually active for so long, a dry spell like this wasn’t only miserable for pleasure and comfort reasons, but it was also making Oliver moody. He was tense, agitated, only feeling momentary relief when he’d jack off, but even his own hand was doing absolutely nothing for Oliver.

He shook his head. Next time… date number two. He’d tell Thomas he was positive, and he’d be okay with it, then they’d have sex. _Yes, good, positive thoughts._

Oliver grabbed his phone and texted Michaela a quick message about how great the night had been… she’d insisted he tell her _everything_ afterwards. Oliver wasn’t about to spill all the details, but he was happy enough at how well it went that he was actually excited to tell Michaela.

You know, minus Thomas leaving Oliver high and dry.

* * *

It was nearing midnight and Oliver was laying in bed, restless, nibbling on his bottom lip when his phone lit up with a buzz, indicating he had a text message. He snagged his glasses, pushing them up his nose before taking his phone, his heart leaping into his throat at the contact.

Connor.

Oliver pulled his bottom lip between his teeth again, bracing himself and opening up the text:

_[I hope all that wine and cheese gives Thomas the shits.](http://winters-blue-children.tumblr.com/post/152409017269/a-very-short-3x06-coliver-coda-sort-of) _

Oliver snorted, giggling at the text despite himself.

“Asshole,” Oliver mumbled with a grin, his thumbs stroking the phone’s edges. He sighed. He’d been sighing a lot, recently. Thinking a lot, wondering what the hell went through Connor Walsh’s mind, what made the younger man act out, why he felt the need to be so sarcastic and clipped with Oliver. Did Connor really want him back, or was he looking for a fight?

Oliver continued staring at the text, his fingers hesitant over the tiny keypad.

 _What are you doing right now?_ Oliver sent it before thinking about it, holding his breath.

The reply was immediate:

_Thinking about sleep_

And then,

_Why?_

Oliver set his phone down on the mattress, turning his face into the pillow and grunting. He really shouldn’t do this, he really, _really_ shouldn’t do this.

But it would be so easy… he knew Connor would say yes. It’d be _so_ _easy_ to invite Connor over for a fuck. That’s all Oliver needed, just one night on familiar territory, sex that he knew would be mind blowing… sex that would definitely tide him over until he’d see Thomas next week.

Oliver rolled over, digging his hands under the pillow. He was only dating Thomas right now, it’d be okay, it wouldn’t be cheating… No. But Thomas was the kind of guy you go steady with, who you take out on dinner dates and long walks along the waterfront. Oliver would regret it, sleeping with Connor, and Connor wouldn’t understand.

Or would he?

Oliver turned back around, picking up his phone and opening messenger again.

_Wanna come over?_

Oliver typed it out and stared at the words, thumb hovering over the send button. If he did this, regardless if Connor said yes or no, sending those three words would forever put a hope between the two of them. Even if Oliver states his case, that he just wants Connor’s body at the moment, he knew Connor well enough to know he’d over-analyze the situation and possibly become more badgering with Oliver about his single life.

Oliver hit send, never imagining there’d be a day where his penis made a decision for him.

* * *

The morning after was awkward… but when Connor rolled over with that stupid smile, not prideful or condescending, but _happy_ , snuggling into Oliver’s chest, Oliver knows he’d fucked up.

And when he gets a dozen roses delivered to him at the clinic, right in front of Connor, Oliver actually cusses aloud. They’re from Thomas.

He’s definitely fucked up.


	28. Coda: 3.08 Shower sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M, obvs.

“Okay, bossy pants.”

“Look, you’re the one raring to go down there. I’m just– I’m being helpful.” Connor winked, turning back around and hoping that was that.

Soon after he felt kisses down his neck and a hand slide around his waist. He raised his eyebrows curiously, really? Finally Oliver was going to drop it? He honestly had no idea how Oliver was managing an erection while talking about Annalise– _Annalise_ of all people! Connor had been soft the entire time, trying to sneak kisses in to at least get on Oliver’s level, but every time Oliver opened his mouth, his dick wanted to shrink into his body.

But now the conversation seemed to have ended as he felt Oliver step up, pressing his body against Connor’s and his kisses continued down his shoulder. Connor felt Oliver’s penis grind softly between his ass cheeks and smirked. Finally they were getting somewhere.

Connor pushed his ass back, loving the way Oliver’s fingers dug into his sides, one hand still holding onto the loofah. Connor tilted his head back, allowing Oliver to sneak past his shoulder and kiss up the side of his neck, humming in Connor’s ear before giving it a nip.

“Who’s being bossy, now?” Connor asked with a smile, turning his head and capturing Oliver’s lips in a kiss, one that he’d be damned to let Oliver’s ramblings interrupt. He brought a hand up to caress the back of Oliver’s head, holding him in place to make sure of that.

Both of Oliver’s arms slid around Connor’s body, crossing them at his stomach like a slippery snare. Connor’s hands fell atop Oliver’s, enjoying the feel of Oliver gently rocking against him while his tongue explored his mouth, languid and sensual, taking his time with this kiss. It was enough to make Connor moan, craning his head back even further and just appreciating the way their mouths moved together, parting at the same time, tongues erotically tangled before closing in again at a different angle. They had months of endless kisses practiced together, but each one still felt brand new, still sent shivers down Connor’s body, a tingling sensation building in his lower belly with every touch, bite, lick that Oliver gave. But it was also familiar, in the sense of knowing just where to move and when, just how hard and soft they both liked it; Connor would never tire of kissing Oliver.

They both could never keep it slow though, and soon Oliver was devouring Connor’s mouth, groaning as his lips and tongue worked wildly, his arms winding tighter around Connor. The force was bending Connor’s head back uncomfortably, but before Connor could think about turning around in the embrace, to at least make this less strenuous on his neck, Oliver pulled away, leaving Connor gasping for air, and pressed Connor against the wall of the shower. Oliver’s mouth was once again on his neck, but harsher than before, more needy, more teeth and sucking.

The tiles were cold and hard against Connor’s soapy chest, but he liked it, he loved when Oliver took control like this, being rough with him, it turned Connor on in more ways than he could imagine. He huffed out a laugh, his breath hitting the wall.

“Where was this guy five minutes ago?”

“Impatient as always…” Oliver sang, snapping his hips forward, nearly driving Connor’s pelvis against the wall. Connor’s hands flattened out on the surface for support. He was panting now, eyes closed and jaw dropping as Oliver sucked on a particular spot on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, causing Connor to bite back a whine of pleasure.

Oliver continued grinding against Connor’s ass, the warm water beating on his side and down his front making everything wet and tantalizing. Not to mention the way Connor reciprocated, rolling his hips out, breath hitching when Oliver would bend his knees to push up from the bottom, his throbbing cock brushing past Connor’s hole.

“Oliver,” Connor begged, his forehead resting against the wall. “You gonna put that thing in me or what?”

Connor received a chuckle in response. He was about to reach for the nearest bottle of– something– to use as lube, when suddenly he moaned obscenely, knees buckling from a new sensation.

Oliver had the soaped up loofah between his legs, scrubbing it carefully underneath Connor’s balls and back to his perineum, where he pressed none-too gently. He kept up the torturous wash, moving his head to lick up the other side of Connor’s neck, nudging his nose behind an ear.

“You like that?” He whispered, taking Connor’s ear between his teeth.

“ _Ah_ , yeah,” Connor keened, his fingers bending against the tiles, looking for something to hold on to.

Oliver stepped back so his cock wasn’t touching Connor anymore. He relished in the whine of disappointment from Connor, as he slowly, agonizingly dragged the sponge up between Connor’s cheeks, slipping a finger past and pushing inside.

Connor gasped, taking hold of his cock and slowly fisting himself as Oliver’s finger pushed further in.

“You’re still pretty loose from this morning,” Oliver noted with a grin, easily slipping a second finger in and dropping the loofah.

Connor turned his head, squinting against the spray of water.

“I love it when you fuck me.”

Oliver leaned in, tapping his nose to Connor’s cheek. “Are you trying to compliment me or inspire me to move faster?”

“Both, because you’re slow as fuck.”

Oliver laughed, curling his fingers and pressing _hard_ against Connor’s prostate, making him scream.

“Did you know you’re a little bitch?” Oliver growled in Connor’s ear.

Connor was shaking as Oliver removed his fingers, his head fell under the shower head as Oliver looked around the wall for the little bottle of KY he kept on hand.

After slicking himself up, Oliver pressed the head of his cock against Connor’s hole. He paused, learning forward and pressing his chest against Connor’s back, listening and feeling how hard he was breathing, how his skin felt against Oliver’s, how close they were in this moment, how nice it was to forget about the outside world and why Connor was actually here.

Before Connor could open his smart mouth again, Oliver pushed himself inside, slowly, carefully, moaning deeply into Connor’s hair.

Connor’s mouth was open, almost fully pressing himself against the wall, which had warmed up considerably, tempting Connor to give in and let himself be fucked against it.

When Oliver started to move, slowly going in and out, Connor really got vocal, which was no surprise, he was always loud when Oliver fucked him.

“Harder Ollie, please…”

“I’ve just started,” Oliver teased, taking Connor’s hips again and pulling him back with every thrust, staring with hunger at Connor’s back, arched forward so his ass stuck out lewdly.

Watching Connor’s muscles strain, Oliver picked up the pace, biting his bottom lip and watching the water from the shower head pelt down on Connor’s back, smooth, clean and rippling every time Oliver struck his prostate.

“ _Hah, ahh_ , Ollie,” Connor babbled, choking on his breath every time Oliver rammed forward with building momentum, the sound of their skin slapping together lost in the echo of the shower.

“Fuck, Connor,” Oliver hissed, his fingers holding on tight to Connor’s wet skin. He had the insane urge to lift him up, so Connor could wrap his limbs around him. He wanted to be surrounded by Connor, to breathe the same air and feel the same heat. He wanted Connor all over him, touching him, kissing him, loving him all the time.

But Oliver couldn’t do that, he couldn’t have what he wanted yet, not until Connor figured himself out, figured out how to properly win Oliver back. So he drove harder, deeper, until Connor was flush against the shower wall, his cheek pressing against it as Oliver relentlessly fucked him. He didn’t want to see Connor’s face, didn’t need to look into his eyes, he could get off just fine without Connor touching him.

It seemed Connor could do the same as well, he cried out, his body tensing up before relaxing minutely.

Oliver picked up the pace impossibly, squeezing his eyes shut before slowing down, carefully removing his penis and grabbing it firmly, jerking himself quickly and cumming over Connor’s pert, worn out ass.

Connor turned around then, slumping against Oliver. Oliver laughed, his arms once again wrapping around Connor, but this time for support.

“Now we’re dirty again,” Oliver commented unnecessarily. He didn’t like the quiet that was developing, with Connor in his arms.

Connor hummed, straightening out so the embrace felt more like a hug. Oliver swallowed, unsure what to do. The water was turning cold.

“Want to get out of here?”

“Not yet,” Connor whispered, turning his head and pressing his lips softly against Oliver’s.

It wasn’t a lingering kiss, one that meant more to come, or even a peck. It was slow, careful, hopeful. It reminded Oliver too much of that kiss Connor gave him the day Connor moved out of his apartment.

Oliver kissed back numbly, wondering where this would lead.


	29. Coda: 3.10 Oliver and Wes talk about Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, after Wes died, the K4 had some flashbacks with him, but Oliver didn't? I remedied that (I was very pro-Oliver in season 3).

It was getting late in the clinic, but Oliver was only allowed to leave once all the students had.

He peeked up from his monitor, spying a single body at a nearby table, hunched over a textbook, scribbling in a notebook. Oliver sighed softly, wondering why Wes couldn’t choose to study in the library instead, which was open all night.

Oliver debated telling Wes to go home, he didn’t know how much longer he could stand to be alone with his thoughts… which mostly strayed to Connor these days. Wondering what _he_ was thinking about, if he’d given any thought to why Oliver broke up with him… if he’d bother trying to talk to Oliver. Or if Connor already moved on, back to that promiscuous, handsome young man that Oliver first met that night in the bar… no doubt Connor would have no shame fucking information out of someone new, given the freedom from commitment now.

“Wes,” Oliver called out, feeling embarrassed for startling the student but it really was getting late. And his thoughts, predictably, began traveling to Connor, and Oliver wouldn’t have it. He needed to get out of here, go home, distract himself, something.

Wes jerked upright in his seat, fixing Oliver with wide eyes before he let out a breathy laugh.

“Hey. Sorry, I forgot there was someone else in here…”

Oliver ignored how that kind of stung, but he was used to blending in with the background.

“Go home, it’s nearly 11.” Oliver started packing up his own things for emphasis, turning his eyes down.

He heard Wes make a sound and looked up to see him stretching, knocking his head back and forth before gathering his papers as well. Without much care, he shoved the loose leafs into a haphazard pile, shoving them in the two open books and snapping them shut before stuffing it all into his messenger bag.

Oliver gave a polite smile when Wes caught him staring, gazing back down as he finished collecting his things and standing.

Wes made his way to Oliver’s desk, pulling the strap to his bag a little higher up on his shoulder.

“Thanks for letting me stick around, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

Oliver shrugged, stepping around the desk and walking with Wes. “It’s no problem. Got nothing else to do.”

After locking the door behind them, Oliver and Wes made their way down the hall, heading for the parking lot.

“Sorry we always make you hack… I know you’re trying not to…” Wes trailed off, like he wasn’t sure what he was saying was 100 percent true.

Oliver hummed with a smile. “It’s alright. You never need me to hack so, no need to be sorry.” Oliver threw Wes a look of gratitude. He liked Wes, he was quiet and unbiased. They had a lot in common, if Oliver thought about it, but Wes always seemed caught up in his own life, school, work… he wasn’t even that close with the rest of the gang, now that Oliver considered it.

Oliver knew Wes as the “Puppy,” as the guy who slept with a client, who was “too nice for his own good,” he remembered Connor complaining once… nothing else really. Out of the “Keating 5,” Oliver understood Wes the least, though it wasn’t like he’d made any effort to form a connection with the guy.

Wes nodded, smiling tiredly.

“How’s uh… you and Connor?”

Oliver brought his lips in, forming a thin line. He didn’t want to talk about Connor, and he didn’t understand how Wes could care at all about their relationship.

“Fine,” he answered vaguely, pushing the door open and stepping out into the cool night.

Wes stuck his hands in his pockets. “It’s just that, he randomly came up to me today, wanting to talk about you.”

That made Oliver give Wes his full attention, his brows furling.

“What did he say?”

Wes looked to the ground awkwardly, his walk slowing.

“That… he sees a therapist and talks about you, apparently.”

Oliver stopped walking, causing Wes to as well, who sighed.

“Look, it’s not my place to say.” Wes shrugged with his elbows, hands still in his pockets. “But Connor and I never talk. I’m pretty sure he hates me. For him to just, plop down and unload on me was really weird. I think he wants someone who will really listen to him, give him advice.”

Oliver’s contorted face relaxed, angling it to the ground and licking his lips.

“Well, he knows I’m waiting for a talk so…” Oliver shrugged, struggling to appear casual while his blood pounded in his ears. He actually wasn’t sure if Connor knew he could talk to him about anything… Oliver had said he needed space, but the truth of the matter was that, he still loved Connor and cared for him. If Connor was willing to talk about this chasm between him and Oliver, that’d be ideal, but not begging him back, not backing up from an argument, not offering excuses. A real, open and honest discussion is what Oliver wants.

How could Connor be honest enough with Wes to admit he’s seeing a therapist? Where was that trust with him and Oliver?

Wes nodded, pulling a hand up and drumming his fingers on his bag. “Don’t tell Connor I told you, please.”

Oliver swallowed. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you around.” Wes turned, headed toward the bike rack. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah…” Oliver replied, rooted to the spot.

He didn’t want to think about Connor.

And now Oliver knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night.


	30. Coda: 3.12 Clutching the throw pillow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon sent me an ask, "... I'd have loved a little scene where Connor brought up that Ollie was mimicking him with the pillow..."

“Were you… okay, back there?”

Oliver shut the door behind Connor and him, lifting his head at the question.

“What?”

Connor slipped his jacket off, fussing with the material a bit before letting it fall over a chair at the island.

“At Bonnie’s,” Connor turned to face Oliver, standing in the entryway. “You were awfully quiet.”

A silence developed between them, which had been happening more and more often. Each silence took something out of Oliver, a little bit of energy draining with every hopeless stare.

Oliver shrugged, finally taking his jacket off with a mute sigh, dragging his feet to the couch and collapsing onto it.

Connor drummed his fingers over the island’s surface, waiting for Oliver to say something. After a beat, he stepped toward Oliver, snagging a throw pillow before sitting on the cushion next to him. Oliver watched, his arms tangled in his jacket, as Connor toed his shoes off and brought his legs up to cross them on the couch, the pillow seated comfortably in his lap.

“You okay?” Oliver spoke softly. Connor smiled, looking down. He hadn’t smiled in a while, Connor was getting worried that not even Oliver could make him happy anymore.

“You know, this is what you were doing.” Connor clutched the pillow for emphasis. At Oliver’s receiving stare, Connor rolled his eyes. “At Bonnie’s.”

“Oh… and?”

“ _And_ , this is what I do, when I’m nervous or upset.” Connor said quickly, looking around. It was weird admitting his comfort crutch aloud. “I’ve never seen you do it.” He finished with a grin, looking back at Oliver.

“Ah,” Oliver looked forward again, his eyes brightening up a little. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

Their eyes met in a flash, both thinking of the double meaning of what Oliver just said and smiling about it.

“You’re cuddling your jacket right now, too.”

“Shut up,” Oliver chuckled, stubbornly untangling his arms from his jacket and throwing it to the floor.

Another quiet fell among them, both thinking about the past 24 hours. Oliver’s questioning, Laurel yelling at them, Wes’ body missing… no one had time to rest or think.

“Everything’s happening so fast…” Oliver whispered, clutching his hands together. “I don’t know… if I’m doing the right thing…”

Connor swallowed. He unwound his tight grip from the pillow and offered it to Oliver, who stared at it, then up into Connor’s eyes.

Oliver reached up as if to take the pillow, but instead his fingers lightly brushed Connor’s hand, caressing around rough skin to take hold of his wrist. With weary eyes, Oliver tugged Connor’s hand forward until the younger man complied, crawling on his knees and curling up into Oliver’s arms, letting himself be squeezed.


	31. Coda: 3.13 Connor confesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst!

“What are you not telling me?” Oliver’s voice was monotone, with a waver of emotion teetering to spill over.

Connor licked his lips, averting his eyes to the floor, gathering his thoughts.

“Say something!”

“I-” Connor straightened up, his hands balling into fists inside his pockets. “I’m the source, okay?”

A horrible silence filled the room.

“What?”

“The anonymous source, I went to the police after… after I found Wes’ body.”

Connor forced his head up, leveling Oliver with a stern look. Oliver shifted, clearly uncomfortable, but keeping eye contact. Connor’s blood pounded in his ears, nearly deafening him, blanketing him like he was being drowned.

After it was clear Oliver wouldn’t speak, Connor swallowed, moistening his dry mouth.

“I checked my voicemail from Thomas’ phone because I had a bad feeling-”

“A bad feeling?” Oliver cut in, sarcasm flitting in.

Connor went still, brows narrowing. “Yeah, a bad feeling. You have no idea what we’ve been going through this semester, how everyone is walking on egg shells and our group has been split up and trust has been thrown out the window-” Connor took a deep inhale, pulling his hands from his pockets to grip his hair, using the pain to get him back on track.

“And while Wes was basically being held hostage at Annalise’s for being a liability, I got scared and threatened him. Maybe he told Annalise that, maybe everyone is sick of my bullshit…” Connor gesticulated while he spoke. “This was my thought process while I stared at the voicemail from Annalise, and why I decided to listen to it through another phone, because I was suspicious. And sorry for trying to cover my tracks, but it’s not because I’m guilty.”

Connor’s jaw clenched tight, refusing to look away from Oliver’s judgmental stare.

“I never said you were.”

“You sure are cornering me like I am.”

“So you went to the house anyway. Why?”

“Because I’m just a sheep,” Connor felt his lips curving up. “Because despite everything she’s put me through, I still come to Annalise when she calls. Because I’m weak. And lost. And for some _stupid_ reason, I continued to think she could help us, but now I know better.”

Connor watched Oliver’s pulse beat through a vein in his neck, saw his eyes cloud over in anger and disbelief.

“And when I saw Wes’ body on the floor of her house, without her there- without _anyone_ there,” Connor’s voice raised. “I panicked. Annalise has threatened me before, she’s threatened you before, and in my mind all I saw was a set-up. Maybe that wasn’t the case, who the fuck knows.” Connor balled his hands into fists again at his side, fighting against stepping towards Oliver.

“I tried resuscitating him but-” Connor’s eyes finally fell to the floor again as his voice broke. Shit, it was happening again. He suddenly saw Wes’ lifeless face in front of him again, eyes closed, head lolling from side to side as he shook him, his cooling skin as he checked his pulse… the uselessness Connor felt as he performed CPR.

It was all coming back in a rush, the night he’d tried so hard to bury, refusing to remember. Another dead body, not just a witness or a client, but _Wes_. Maybe not his friend, but someone he spoke to every day, someone he shared horrors with, class and friends with. This was different. This was personal, and it made everything suddenly far too real.

Connor tried taking a breath but his lungs rattled, mouth painfully dry. He looked to Oliver again to steady himself, but found no remorse, no pity, and it made something snap in Connor.

He curled his arms around his middle, trying to keep himself together.

“So I immediately ran out of there and told the police… nearly everything. I said-” Connor choked on his words. He squeezed his eyes shut, giving his head a shake before opening them again. Breathing was suddenly difficult, the room went in and out of focus, and Oliver continued to stand silently.

_Fuck, I’m having a panic attack._

“Oliver…” Connor weakly pleaded, arm extending, looking for the nearest surface to balance himself on.

Oliver was there in an instant, grabbing Connor by the arms and holding him steady.

“Breathe, Connor. Take it easy.”

Connor shook his head, but latched on to Oliver’s voice anyway, although it wasn’t very comforting, he let it be, allowing it into his head and repeating the words over and over while taking short breathes through his nose and out his mouth.

Once Connor could see straight again, Oliver let his hands drop, crossing his arms.

“What do you expect me to do with this information?”

Connor stepped to the side, leaning against a wall. “I don’t care anymore… maybe trust me?”

Oliver brought his lips in, fingers digging into his arms.

Connor’s jaw dropped as he dissected Oliver’s expression, the doubt in his eyes.

“I’m telling you the truth and you don’t believe me?” Connor accused, astounded.

Oliver sighed sharply. “Given your current track record, can you blame me?”

“You think I’m capable of _murder_?” Connor’s pulse kicked back up before it had time to settle.

“I don’t know what to believe right now!”

Oliver’s shout echoed through the apartment, ringing in each other’s ears.

“You don’t trust me.” Connor said plainly, hurt and despair replacing everything in his body, his very being.

Oliver’s face fell, lips parting uselessly as his shoulder’s raised in a jolt.

“I-” Oliver’s mouth worked mutely, eyes darting everywhere, shining with moisture. “I need to figure this out for myself…”

Connor pulled himself from the wall, swallowing the lump in his throat. He nodded sarcastically.

“Okay…” He said, plunging his hand back into his pocket, yanking out his keychain.

With shaking fingers, Connor pulled Oliver’s key off the loop, throwing it to the floor and turning around, making his way back to the door.

“You do that.”


	32. Coda: 4.03 Oliver gives a striptease

_I can think of a better way to spend your tuition money._

Connor stared at the text. He was walking home on wobbly feet, day-drinking into the late evening probably wasn’t the greatest plan, but fuck if he didn’t feel good about it.

_Gonna make me buy you an engagement ring?_

Connor drunkenly sniggered at his own joke before hitting send, loosely swinging his phone back and forth in his hand as he reached his building. He had just stepped inside the elevator, slouching heavily against the wall, when his phone buzzed again.

_Not quite…_

Brows narrowed, curious, Connor stared at his phone once more, barely hearing the _ding_ when the third floor arrived and the doors opened. Now that Oliver and him were square on their future plans, Connor sometimes liked to tease the older man about it, marriage. Part of Connor wondered if he was starting to become obnoxious about it, but Oliver never opposed or snapped at him… in fact sometimes he’d play along.

Like that time they were walking in the park and they passed a couple walking their dog.

“ _We should get a dog first, right?”_

_Oliver had nodded, subtly lacing his fingers with Connor’s, dangling at his side._

“ _A medium sized dog,” Oliver responded, staring off. “Not an ankle biter, but not something that we’d need a big house for.”_

“ _What if I want a big house?” Connor looked over at Oliver, loving his profile._

_Oliver grinned, glancing briefly, knowingly, at Connor before staring straight again._

“ _You can buy it then.”_

Connor slipped his key into apartment 303, turning it and letting himself in.

He blinked in the darkness that greeted him, eyes adjusting in the limited light. From what he could see, all the window blinds were pulled up, the glow of the moon and street lamps basking the living room in a cool glow.

“Ollie?” Connor slurred, dropping his keys in the bowl and reaching for the light switch.

“Don’t turn the lights on.”

Connor stilled, hand still outstretched. He was about to ask why, looking in the direction Oliver’s voice came from, when soft hip hop suddenly filled into the apartment. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if this was a drunken day dream, when he saw a well dressed Oliver emerge from their bedroom, leaning casually on the door frame.

“You’re home late.”

“I…” Connor started, not about to explain himself, just whine about how Asher was terrible company, when Oliver sauntered over to him, leather shoes distinct on the hard wood floor, speaking over him.

“I don’t care why.” Oliver was in front of him now, dipping his fingers past the waist of Connor’s jeans, tugging them down a little.

With Oliver this close, Connor was able to see what he was wearing. A sleek black jacket hung, fitted, on Oliver’s shoulders, back, and arms over a white button down adorned with a simple black tie. His slacks were deliciously tight, also black.

Connor didn’t realize his mouth was hanging open ‘til Oliver slipped a hand out from his pants and pressed his thumb over Connor’s bottom lip, pulling it low. He leaned forward, eyelids heavy, breathing into Connor’s mouth.

Connor didn’t know what this was, but felt his body heat up regardless, the alcohol in his system making him hyper aware of Oliver’s close presence, his warm body inches from his own, and lips hovering over Connor’s. His eyes fluttered shut, tilting forward to connect his lips with Oliver’s, when the man stepped back, leaving Connor to stumble.

Sensing fleeting warmth, Connor’s eyes opened to Oliver stepping backwards, slowly, a hand on his silk tie, eyes trained provocatively on his own.

Multiple thoughts flew in and out of Connor’s hazy brain, _where did you get that suit? Why is there music playing? Why do you look like a… groom?_ But instead of voicing any of that, Connor stumbled forward, entranced, watching Oliver’s fingers work at his tie before slipping it off with a _snap_ that made Connor gasp.

Oliver finally stopped walking, allowing Connor to come within three feet before throwing the tie around Connor’s neck, swinging him around with a smirk that could give first-year-law-Connor’s a run for his money, and letting him fall to the couch with an undignified plop.

After the room ceased to spin, Connor opened his mouth to retort, only to swallow his tongue when Oliver climbed on top of him, legs on either side of his hips, looking down at him with a confidence Connor had only seen during sex… though with a flicker of tell-tale insecurity.

“What are you doing?” Connor finally managed to find his voice, his useless hands finally coming to life and grabbing Oliver’s hips instinctively.

Connor wasn’t expecting his hands to be pulled away, rather roughly, let alone pinned back to the couch with Oliver leaning in so their noses brushed.

“I think you know…” Oliver whispered. He released Connor’s hands, sitting up on his knees and slowly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt in time to the music.

Connor’s mouth went dry, blood rushing to his groin.

“Is… is this because I called you jealous?”

Oliver got to the last button, letting the pretty white shirt hang open as he popped his pants button, pulling the zipper down in the same motion. He surged forward, hands on the back on the couch as he hovered over Connor, teasingly rolling his hips above Connor’s without contact, bare chest and chiseled abs in his face.

In the limited light, Connor saw a flicker of shiny purple baiting him underneath Oliver’s low-hanging slacks.

Connor felt himself getting hard, torn between watching Oliver’s naked skin inches away from his lips, or his moving hips tormenting him with what Oliver could possibly be wearing under those pressed, professional slacks. His mind wandered back to the gay bar they had been this afternoon, the brightly colored booty shorts and cheesy, holographic patterns with bills tucked safely into.

Finger’s itching, Connor moved them back to Oliver’s hips, desire to get a hand around Oliver and find out if his suspicions were correct, when Oliver slapped his hand, grabbed his chin, and got in his flushed face.

“No touching,” Oliver demanded, eyes playful. “But… you can leave me a nice tip.”


	33. Coda: 4.04 Oliver tells how he came out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done with the codas. I can tell you guys are sick of 'em by the drop in kudos and hits lol

“Hey, Connor…”

Connor stopped and turned from the door, he hadn’t even opened it yet. He still had that faraway look in his eyes, like he wasn’t really paying attention, like he was about to use working out as another distraction to something.

Oliver put his wine glass down, followed by shrugging off his cardigan. He already got his run in today, while Connor and Jeff were off doing whatever they were doing… but he had a feeling he needed another one.

“Give me a second.” Oliver went to their room, peeling off his shirt as he went for something more suitable to sweat in. He could hear Connor’s huff of irritation as he changed.

* * *

The men were silent as they ran, side by side, arms pumping rhythmically, breath coming out in tiny clouds of air in the chilly night.

Meanwhile, Oliver’s mind swam with ideas on how to approach Connor about his father, his past, how the other guy was _feeling_ , _anything_ to get Connor to open up. It’s not unusual for Connor to be so quiet, so guarded, but Oliver had hoped that they would’ve gotten past this obstacle by now; be comfortable speaking openly and honestly with each other.

But apparently Connor still had that wall up. And damn if it wasn’t the most frustrating challenge Oliver had ever set for himself, figuring out Connor Walsh, over a year in the making.

An hour in and Oliver saw Connor check his phone before looking over to him.

“Wanna turn around now?”

Oliver slowed. He felt sweat sliding down his back, his scalp itched and his knees were sore. Connor looked tired, but not in the physical way.

“Could we walk back?”

Connor cracked a grin and Oliver smiled. He always smiled when Connor did, no matter how small.

“Getting too much for you, old man?” Connor joked, nudging his elbow in Oliver’s side.

Oliver snagged Connor by his taunting elbow and pulled him in to jab a couple wiggling fingers in his ribs, delighted at the shriek of surprise that came out of Connor, letting him go before he could fight too much more.

“I already ran 6 miles today, smart ass.”

Oliver dodged Connor’s attempts to start a tickle war, grinning like a lunatic the entire time, before taking both Connor’s hands in his, snickering at the forced frown Connor sported.

Connor sighed dramatically. “Yeah fine, we can walk.” He managed to get a hand free and pinch Oliver’s ass before running ahead a few steps.

Looking around, and rubbing his rear, Oliver fell in step with Connor, the silence between them not so stifled any longer.

Oliver waited a few paces more, brushing his fingers against Connor’s, before speaking up.

“I have something I should tell you..” He looked over as Connor did.

“What’s that?”

Oliver licked his lips. “…Your dad told me about the day you came out.”

Connor threw his head back, groaning.

“Oh my god,” Connor took a sharp intake of breath, frustration making his voice come out clipped. “I can’t stand that man.”

“It wasn’t his place…” Oliver agreed. “But, it was nice to hear, regardless. Though I would have preferred to hear it from you.”

Connor went quiet, watching their feet step on the sidewalk. “Sorry, I know I don’t talk a lot…”

“That’s fine.” Even though it wasn’t. Connor’s face had reset into his best brood, staring straight ahead.

Oliver looked down at Connor, at his hands which he could no longer take, stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

“I didn’t come out ‘til college.”

That made Connor look over, one eyebrow raised. “Really?”

Oliver nodded. “Dad is super Christian, doesn’t exactly bode well for keeping the family together for me to suddenly announce I’m gay and going straight to hell.”

Connor chuckled, but it was one of those nervous laughs, like he didn’t know what else to do.

“So I waited until my second year of college… I was petrified.” Oliver stuck his own hands in his pockets now, eyes unfocused as he remembered. “Told mom in a letter…”

Silence fell again. Oliver felt Connor look over at him, but avoided him. His coming out story wasn’t exciting, it wasn’t met with happiness and acceptance, but more like his family _had_ to accept it, because he was their son and there was nothing they could do about it.

“It was weird…” Oliver finished vaguely. “Mom has always been kind to me, dad more or less just doesn’t care now. He’ll still send Christmas cards or wish me a happy birthday… but it’s just because…” Oliver struggled for words, looking up into the starless sky.

“Because I’m his son and it’s just an obligation to him now.”

Oliver stopped walking when he noticed Connor had. They faced each other, watching, studying.

“The way you came out was so…” Oliver continued, eyes flicking up and down his boyfriend. “… you. I can’t believe you’ve always been so confident, so sure.”

“Dad glorifies it,” Connor quickly interjected, shaking his head slightly. “He didn’t know what was going through my head. All he saw was what I wanted him to see, like I did with everyone else.

“That’s what I used to be…” Connor trailed off, looking to the side. Oliver watched, curious, wondering what Connor and his dad got up to talking about today.

Connor snagged his beanie off and scraped his nails down the back of his head, landing on his neck and rubbing it like he used to.

“Thanks for telling me…” Connor replaced his hat, looking back up at Oliver sincerely. “About your coming out. It means a lot to me.”

Oliver nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. He omitted a lot, but only because he wasn’t sure how Connor would take it, if he even wanted to listen. It’s something Oliver often finds himself thinking about, sharing details, stories about his past, his life with Connor. He used to keep mostly to himself, only because Connor did. But maybe, hopefully, by opening up, Connor would feel comfortable talking more, sharing more. Oliver hoped so, because there was a lot he wanted to learn.


	34. Coda: 5.08 Wedding night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not good lol. But we've finally reached the end of true canon. Thank Christ.

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other the rest of the night, after they exchanged vows, after Oliver shoved his cake piece in Connor’s mouth and laughed with him at the resulting mess. After their first dance and after Oliver spontaneously sang for Connor in the middle of reception. 

Little touches really, a hand on the small of Connor’s back, a finger curled around another, shoulders bumping, a quick kiss on the cheek, ear, lips. Connor wouldn’t stop staring at Oliver too, the older man noticed with a thrill that never ceased to get his blood flowing, even after all this time, especially after promising themselves to one another forever.

The party lasted hours after what they had scheduled, thanks to Connor’s abnormally large family and every single person bringing a plus one. The DJ left when it was his time but the party continued through laptop speakers and Oliver was that annoyingly nice not to leave his own reception…

Until Connor physically dragged Oliver out of the building, drunkenly babbling how no one would notice they were gone and it was past midnight anyway.

Two grooms in the back of an Uber was probably a silly sight, but Oliver didn’t care. He held Connor’s hand in between their seats and pushed his husband back every time he went in for a kiss, giggling at being stopped.

Connor and Oliver stumbled into their immaculate hotel room, arms around each other and nearly falling onto the floor when they finally got the door open. 

Connor snickered loudly, hands all over Oliver and not helping to find the light switch.

“Connor—“ Oliver grunted impatiently, but still smiling. They forgot about the light and figured their way through the darkness, Connor holding onto Oliver like he’d fall otherwise.

“God I love you so much,” Connor babbled, taking Oliver’s face in his hands and kissing up his jaw, delaying their blind trek to the bed by pushing Oliver against a wall.

Oliver found Connor’s lips and kissed him hard, kissed him like he wanted to as soon as they slipped their rings on, which he could still feel on his finger.

He tasted tequila and lime on Connor’s breath, knew he was drunk, but the lack of coordination and how hasty Connot’s kisses were told just how shit faced he was.

“How much did you have to drink?” Oliver gasped, running on the buzz of alcohol as well, but not enough to impede his motor skills.

“I saw my mom with… _Asher_ ,” Connor grumbled randomly, pulling himself away to cuss into the darkness, his hands moving erratically. Oliver heard the sounds of fabric rustling like he was fighting with his clothes.

“… What?” 

“I fucking hate him sometimes, man…” Oliver heard the slip of a tie come off and sensed Connor turning away from him before Oliver shot an arm out to grab him, pull Connor back.

“Hey, Connor,” Oliver trailed his fingers up Connor’s arm, feeling the thin material of his button down instead of his jacket, he must’ve chucked it off. His fingers splayed out, finding his shoulder and continuing up his neck, wrapping his hand around the back of it and pulling Connor closer.

“Mr. Walsh?” Oliver whispered, feeling Connor’s skin beneath his lips. His fingers caressed the hairs at the nape of his husband’s neck.

Connor sighed. Oliver felt his head tilt back. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he was able to make out the shadow that was Connor. See a glimmer of his eyes on the darkness.

“Hampton-Walsh, to you, husband.”

Oliver smirked. He wished he could see Connor’s smile, the possessive gleam in his eyes, the look of pure adoration and love that was mirrored in Oliver. His free hand was taken and he could feel Connor’s fingers touch the gold band around his ring finger, pull it up and kiss it.

“I want you so bad.” Connor spoke softly, lowly. His voice sounded tired and gruff, it made a shiver run down Oliver’s spine.

Instead of responding, Oliver pushed forward to kiss Connor again, maneuvering them toward the center of the room and both collapsing onto the king sized bed.

Oliver lifted himself off Connor to feel around the nightstand for a light, then up the wall, finding a string and pulling it to illuminate the corner of the bed and cast them in a soft orange glow.

Connor looked stunned, eyes glued to Oliver as he descended on him again, kissing Connor hard and long, pushing and pulling one another, rolling around on the mattress because they could, breathing hard and moaning with every thrust, every bite and every time they whispered each other’s names.

Removing their clothes was a challenge. Connor’s fingers wouldn’t work and Oliver didn’t want to stop teasing Connor through his well fitted trousers. He leaned back to take in the sight of a panting Connor, his button down askew, pants open and barely hanging on, hair wild and eyes dark… his erection straining through his briefs.

Connor’s eyes roved over Oliver, drinking in the sight of his husband. And Oliver, still high off of finally getting married, promising each other forever, felt a surge of confidence in Connor’s heated staring. He pressed his hips down, slipping his restrained dick with Connor’s and watching how Connor’s jaw dropped, head tilting back to expose that delicious jaw line and neck.

Oliver continued softly rolling his hips while slipping his jacket off, then the buttons of his shirt when Connor looked at him again, his eyes glassy.

“I can’t believe I was ever nervous.”

Oliver’s head twitched, a smile forming. 

“You were nervous?” His chest was exposed now and he leaned over Connor, letting the other man’s hands slip around his shoulders and hold him at a breathes distance.

“Yeah… up until I saw you waiting for me at the alter…” Connor blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek. Oliver went still, stunned.

Connor continued, his voice getting rough and thick. “And then you fucking sang to me—”

“Oh, Connor,” Oliver bit his lip to keep from laughing. Connor was clearly having a drunken moment. Not the first time Oliver had seen Connor cry while under the influence… he was an emotional drunk.

“Your voice is so beautiful,” Connor sobbed, clearly forgetting his new husband was hard and ready and _eager_ above him. “But I’ve only heard you sing Taylor Swift in the shower.”

“Okay…” Oliver said with finality, sitting up again to reach forward and wipe away Connor’s tears. “That’s enough, come on babe.”

Connor’s hands found Oliver’s shirt open and clung onto the white fabric, using it to pull himself up (and almost knocking skulls with Oliver, who didn’t know what he was trying to do for a moment).

“I just love you _so much_ , Ollie.” Connor wailed into his husband’s chest. “I can’t wait to have dog babies and decorate our living room and shit.”

Oliver sighed, resting his chin on the top of Connor’s head and rubbing a comforting hand on Connor’s back.

He wasn’t going to get his consummation tonight.


	35. When Connor realized he loved Oliver

Connor realized he loved Oliver on a Friday afternoon, unexpectedly, while he and a small group of friends were visiting Oliver’s apartment.

They had been dating for about 4 months, a relationship that had started off casual but slowly grew to be mutually exclusive. And although they had moved past dating and were obviously boyfriends, it still wasn’t something they discussed much, as a couple.

Mostly, probably, because even as a man in his mid-twenties, Connor was terrified of commitment, of domestically, of sharing a life with someone else. But Oliver had shifted his view of that, making Connor feel warm and relaxed, wanted, it was an addicting feeling, and Oliver gave that to him every time he looked in Connor’s direction.

But even so, neither of them had uttered those three words: _I love you_. Connor could see it every time Oliver gazed at him from across the room, during dinner, after sex. Every time Oliver touched him, texted him, kissed him. Connor could see Oliver saying the confession in his head, he knew Oliver loved him, he didn’t need to say it… and honestly, he wasn’t sure how he’d react if Oliver did speak those terrifying words. Besides, Oliver knew Connor’s odd hangup that came along with _I love you_ , thanks to his unending patience and support and stability during their on-and-off again hookups/kind of dates when they first met.

Oliver knew Connor was complicated and bitchy (which made him laugh the first time they fought when Connor admitted “… yeah I’m a bitch…” but Oliver didn’t deny it), but he continued to stick around, despite Connor’s adamant view on relationships.

And that’s why Connor… really, really liked Oliver.

Dinner was over and Oliver was taking a chocolate cake out of the fridge. It was one Connor helped him make earlier and was feeling a weird surge of pride (that he’d never admit to) when Michaela “ooooh'd” at it and Asher, who proclaimed he was _so full_ , practically salivate at.

They even had coffee to go along with it.

As everyone got reseated at the kitchen island, Connor poured himself a cup of coffee, maneuvering to the fridge for some milk and stopping short when he saw his favorite hazelnut creamer on the first shelf.

Now, Oliver took his coffee black, sometimes with some sugar but mostly that was it. So he knew this wasn’t for Oliver.

“Hey.” Connor picked up the creamer, it was full and heavy. He looked toward Oliver, lifting the bottle. “Who’s this for?”

“Oh,” Oliver swallowed the bite in his mouth, pointing his fork at Connor. “It’s for you.”

Connor blinked. “For me?”

Oliver shrugged, looking back down to his cake slice and poking it with his fork.

“Yeah, uh, I remember that first… morning you were here, you made coffee and whined about how I didn’t have any sweet creamer…” he was blushing lightly. Connor knew what he was talking about. Four months ago, the first time they met and Oliver had taken Connor back to his place and they screwed like rabbits. Connor spent the night for some reason, and they had coffee in the morning like it was the most normal fucking thing to do, have coffee with your one-night-stand.

“And you pointed at me and said, ‘for the record, my favorite is hazelnut, from Coffee-Mate, no other brand will do.‘” He chuckled at his own impersonation of Connor, unaware of the flood of emotions welling up inside of Connor.

“Now that you’re over almost every single day, I don’t know, just thought you should have your own creamer here.” Oliver finished, shrugging again, clearly embarrassed about something mentioned months ago, which should’ve been inconsequential, just a line forgotten.

It should’ve been nothing, really. But Connor hadn’t brought the topic back up since. They mostly fucked at Oliver’s house and Connor was just getting used to milk and sugar in his coffee, not bothering to complain anymore about flavoring. Whenever they’d go out for coffee, Connor usually just ordered a latte.

It wasn’t nothing. Oliver had remembered this one silly thing that Connor liked, from the first time they fucked, when they weren’t even _considering_ dating yet.

Michaela and Asher were chatting and Oliver was focusing on his cake again while Connor just stood there, the fridge door open, the cold plastic bottle making his palm numb.

_Oh my God, I love Oliver._

That was it. Connor could finally admit it to himself. He loved Oliver, he’d always had, but just been too scared to think about it. Now that he’d admitted it, the word wouldn’t leave his head. Love, love, _love._ Connor was in love with Oliver.

He finally shut the fridge door before anyone got suspicious, turning away to hide the wide smile that stretched up his face, making his cheeks hurt and eyes squint.

After he briefly composed himself, Connor mixed his coffee, taking a seat next to Oliver, shuffling his chair so their thighs pressed together, and kissing him on the cheek.

“Thank you,” Connor said, and he didn’t just mean for the coffee creamer.

Oliver smiled back at him. “You’re welcome.”

Connor bit his lip, forcing himself to keep the love confession in and instead reached for Oliver’s free hand, squeezing it in his lap.

He waited until Asher and Michaela finally left, an agonizing two more hours before Oliver shut and locked the door behind them. Connor waited on the couch, Netflix still running on the TV, watching Oliver instead make his way back, flopping down next to Connor with a sigh.

“Hey, guess what?” Connor whispered dramatically, the crazy grin that he’d been holding back finally freeing itself. He pulled his legs up to fold his knees over Oliver’s lap.

“What?” Oliver smiled back, his hands landing on Connor’s knees and caressing them.

Connor licked the back of his teeth. “I figured something out,” he rested his chin on Oliver’s shoulder playfully.

Oliver snickered. “What’s that?”

Connor couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I love you,” he said slowly, softly, no trace of humor in his tone.

Oliver’s smile faltered, taking on an insecure twinge before slowly morphing into something ecstatic.

“You love me?” Oliver whispered, staring into Connor’s eyes. He sounded astonished, enraptured.

Connor nodded, taking Oliver’s face in his hands. “I love you,” he said again. _God,_ saying it a second time felt better than the first.

Oliver pushed forward, connecting their lips in a fiery kiss. Connor’s hands moved around Oliver’s shoulders and let himself fall back against the couch cushions, moaning in delight as Oliver’s body completely surrounded him, his taste and smell overpowering his senses.

Kissing Oliver suddenly felt brand new. Every time Oliver flicked his tongue or moved his hands, pressing deeper and deeper against Connor, _into_ Connor, he felt a disorienting wave of heat he’d never felt before, his heart pounding to a different beat. It was intoxicating, and all Connor could do was hang on, press back, relish in the erotic sounds Oliver made, muffled in his own mouth.

“I love you, too,” Oliver said in a breath, their lips brushing, their shared air hot and heavy.

Connor smiled again. He didn’t think he’d ever stop smiling. “I kinda had a feeling.”


	36. Oliver runs a bakery and Connor is weird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Every morning you walk in and inhale deeply then walk back out seriously just buy something already’ AU

Oliver didn’t mind so much when people would walk into his small bakery and wander around, looking at their selection and not buy anything. Whatever, his shop was still new and people were curious, he could get over that. Sometimes they would come back as customers anyway, remembering a pastry or a bread they had sampled and purchasing it.

However, there was one man who came in every morning around opening time, and would shamelessly walk the store front to back, breathing deeply, putting his whole chest into it and sighing as he exhaled, sometimes closing his eyes and nodding, before leaving without a word.

Oliver knew this odd behavior shouldn’t affect him, but it did; it was starting to irritate the shit out of him. Who did this guy think he was? Waltzing in here and barely acknowledging Oliver’s forced, “Good morning,” and sniffing the air like… like abusing free samples.

Oliver never tried to strike up a conversation with the serial sniffer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say besides “Hello,” “Can I help you with something?” and “Alright have a nice day then…” which usually went unanswered, sometimes following a quick glance at Oliver with a cheeky smile.

A smile that always made Oliver’s knees wobble.

If he was being honest with himself, Oliver probably hadn’t banned the guy from entering the store yet because he was handsome beyond belief. Like, he should have been in a magazine for male underwear or swim suits, laying on the beach, sand covering his wet body, the sun touching his skin and making it shine.

Okay, venturing into creeper territory.

Not five minutes into flipping the Closed sign to Open did Oliver hear the bell to the front door chime. He walked in from the back and saw him, the stupid attractive man poking just his head inside the store and inhaling deeply.

Oliver huffed, finding the guy’s gesture more silly than anything, but finally decided it was time to address this… issue.

With his elbows on the counter, Oliver leaned forward, chin resting on his hands.

“Are you ever going to buy anything?”

The man’s blissed out face snapped into something more normal looking as their eyes met.

“Huh?”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Do you seriously think I don’t catch you coming in here every damn day just to _smell_ the bread?”

“… Is that not normal?” The man finally walked all the way in, hands in his pants pockets and walking up to the counter.

Oliver forced himself to stay in this relaxed position, trying to appear annoyed and definitely not show how his pulse rate sped up with every step the man took to close the gap between them.

“No, it’s not.”

He was right in front of Oliver now, looking down at him. Oliver finally straightened up, not liking the unusual spark that ran down his spine at the look the man sent down at him.

“Guess I’m not normal then.”

“It’s really fucking weird,” Oliver agreed, his hands resting on the counter’s edge.

The guy laughed, looking away, toward one of the display cases next to the cash register.

“Well now I’m definitely not buying anything, rude.” The guy said playfully, turning around and giving an exaggerated inhale through his nose and releasing it with a grand exhale, smiling evilly.

“Oh my God,” Oliver muttered under his breath, but grinned anyway. “What’s your name?”

“Why?” He was near the door again, fingers touching the handle.

Oliver shrugged. “Better than referring to you as the guy who practically moans every time he comes in here.”

The guy’s smile sharpened into a smirk, his chin tilting up.

“Thank you, by the way,” Oliver continued, grinning himself. “It’s quite a compliment.”

His hand left the door handle, marching back up to the counter, pulling his wallet out and tugging a card out. A business card, and setting it on the surface between Oliver’s hands.

“If you smell half as delicious as this shop, I’d love to take you out to dinner.”

Oliver snorted, he couldn’t help it. What an awful line. But it still worked it’s charm, making Oliver’s ears hot and his eyes fall away.

“I’m not going anywhere with you until you try something in here.” Oliver countered, touching the card with his pointer finger and sliding it back to the stranger.

“Oh but, Oliver,” the man started, Oliver almost forgot he had his name tag on. “I do plan on trying something…” he trailed off suggestively, eyes giving a purposeful flick up and down Oliver’s front.

 _Dear God._ Oliver was finally rendered speechless.

“Are you… trying to pick me up?”

“Is it working?” The guy leaned in, lowering his voice.

Oliver hummed, looking down again and reading his card.

“Not at all, Connor Walsh.”


	37. Footsie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: coliver hc: Oliver loves to make Connor hot and bothered with company over/in public, like at their sit down dinner at Micaela's, Oliver jerked him off under the table as Connor tried not to moan

Oh anon, I feel this. I really do. But I don’t think Oliver would be quite that forward, he’d be more devious, teasing, rather than going for the gold (so to speak).

And it would happen while having dinner at Michaela’s (a simple pot luck, Asher joining as well). Oliver sits across from Connor at the table, and he just can’t get over how good he looks in that new sweater… he also can’t stop thinking about what made them 20 minutes late (the sweater was a V-neck, proudly exposing delicious collar bones and accenting Connor’s neck. Oliver was mouthing along that neck on the way to Michaela’s, leaning far over in the passenger seat and almost causing Connor to swerve off the road as he pulled over so they could safely continue in the backseat).

So it’s with events from the an hour ago playing behind his eyes that Oliver starts playing footsies under the table with Connor.

It starts innocent enough, socked feet tapping, playfully pushing, giving each other secret, knowing grins.

Then Oliver gets bold. He couldn’t resist even if he tried. Michaela’s attention was distracted by something Asher had said, so Oliver takes the opportunity to start sliding his foot up Connor’s leg, pressing and dragging the material of his pants up with him before settling his heel on the seat between Connor’s thighs.

Oliver nonchalantly takes a sip of his wine, eyes never leaving Connor’s, which are dark and daring, an eyebrow raising slowly while his lips part in a silent gasp. Oliver shifts forward, the bottom on his foot pressing flat against Connor’s crotch, feeling the outline of his hardening dick and giving his toes a wiggle.

Connor makes a _nng_ , sound, snapping his thighs together, trapping Oliver’s foot in his lap and picking up his fork as something to do while Michaela turns toward him.

“What do you think?” she asks and Connor turns his head to her, he hadn’t been paying attention to whatever her and Asher had been discussing.

“Uh, yeah, what?” He fumbles, coughing into his arm as Oliver pressed harder, shifting his foot this way and that.

Michaela levels Connor with an unamused stare before focusing on Oliver, “I know you understand what I’m getting at, right?”

“Of course,” Oliver supplies, the picture of innocence as he sets down his glass to face Michaela. He feels Connor’s thighs relax and open again and Oliver disguises his satisfied smile as something casual, conversing with their host and Asher about whatever they’d been discussing…

… while his own cock stiffened, enjoying Connor’s response of lightly rutting against him. He takes a peek at his boyfriend out the corner of his eye and feels all the air leave his lungs as he witnesses Connor gripping the table’s edge, head down and biting his lip. 

Oliver bends his knee and drives his heel forward, causing Connor to keen softly, rising from his chair slightly, which makes his dick shift and his eyes blow wide, giving Oliver this pleading, desperate look.

Asher interrupts what the three had been talking about to narrow his eyes suspiciously at Connor.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Connor mumbles, reaching for his wine and taking a large gulp, wincing and then coughing.

Because Oliver was keeping it up, his leg was starting to cramp from being stretched out for so long, but he couldn’t stop, Connor was just so addicting to see, coming undone, right here in Michaela’s dining room, with an unaware audience.

“You sure?” Damn Asher’s persistence.

Oliver stopped his movements when Connor faced him again, sending Oliver a loud and clear signal.

“I just have to use the bathroom…” he murmured, dropping his voice to make it sound serious enough for Asher and Michaela to let him go without prodding, unaware of his quickly adjusting himself before standing. Oliver waited til the bathroom door closed before saying something about ‘I should check on him’ before following, trying to keep his pace natural as he made his way to the bathroom.

They beat their personal best for a quickie, Oliver fucking Connor against the bathroom wall, a hand wrapped none too gently around his mouth to keep him quiet as he bit down on his shoulder, holding back his own groans as they came, rough and fast.


	38. When they have a kid headcanons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt list

Carrying the kid: My mind wants to say Connor, but my heart says Oliver. He’s always been a little bigger than Connor, and could always lift more, even as they get older. **  
**

Sometimes, coming home late from a play the kindergarteners put on or from a soccer match, their kid will drift off with her eyes closed in the back seat, even when Oliver stops the car and looks in the back.

“Alice, we’re home,” he’d whisper, and Alice would totally be awake. You can see her lips curl up just slightly or her eyes moving behind her lids.

Connor and Oliver would exchange knowing looks.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Oliver would ask Connor.

“I’m pretty tired myself, actually,” Connor would yawn, nestling into his seat. Oliver would roll his eyes. “I can’t carry you both in.”

And as soon as Oliver scooped her up, Alice’s arms wind around his shoulders, obviously giving her away. But Oliver and Connor just smile. (And once she’s actually in bed, sometimes she’d miraculously wake up and demand a bedtime story or to be tucked in like a burrito).

* * *

Cries on the first day of school: Oliver. All the water works. Connor’s eyes would be shiny and his nose red, but he’d keep it in. Oliver would be double checking everything, making sure she has her crayons and books and blanket for her nap. Connor is in charge of packing lunch and snacks (because that’s something he can handle). And Oliver probably asks him a dozen times if he’s remembered to pack Alice’s food and by the second day of it Connor gets agitated enough to encourage Alice to write a note on her crayola canvas that reads: “daddy packed my lunch” and then the date. Don’t doubt that Connor will always get everything in writing.

* * *

No sweets before dinner: Oliver. It’s how he was raised and he carries the rule ( _isn’t it obvious?_ He’d harp on Connor). Because Connor lets it slide. Alice wants a slice of cake cos Oliver is taking too long with the ravioli? Connor would give her a little nod and a whisper, “make sure Taytay doesn’t see.” And she’d sneak into the fridge while Connor distracts Oliver and grab an unceremonious handful of chocolate cake.

Oliver gives Connor a dirty look when he finds out, but Connor has his own puppy dog eyes he’s been perfecting from Alice.

“I don’t know who’s the bigger child here,” Oliver would scold after dinner, as they get ready for bed.

“Well, obviously I am,” Connor would snicker, right before getting a pillow thrown in his face.

* * *

The first time Alice brings a boy over, Connor and Oliver nearly have a heart attack.

She’s 16 and he’s 18, a senior. It’s terrifying. Oliver and Connor whisper-argue (they don’t need to whisper, but it just happens) in the kitchen for an hour before the two are supposed to arrive, he’s dropping her off from school in his car (“of course he can drive, shit. No wonder Alice is so taken by him.” “Yeah, free rides.” Connor shrugs.)

When they walk through the door, Alice disappears to drop off her bag and grab her coat and the guy is left alone with Connor and Oliver.

They basically play “good cop, bad cop” with him, Connor being the bad cop.

“Listen, _Nick_ ,” Connor would be an inch away from jabbing his finger in the guy’s chest. “You so much as lay a _finger_ on Alice-”

“Connor,” Oliver would hiss.

“Sorry… you so much as _look_ at her funny…”

They both trust Alice enough to be smart about picking her dates, but they never practiced what to do when it would happen. Alice is of course embarrassed by them when she emerges from her room, but the guy is a real gentleman (which makes Connor suspicious) and promises to have her home by ten. Which he does (and Connor and Oliver practically pace the house the entire time, forcing themselves not to text Alice while she’s gone).

* * *

Oliver is the one who yells at the principle. Because Alice is a little ball of sunshine, she definitely wouldn’t start a fight, let alone let it escalate. _Maybe you should be speaking with the other girl’s parents,_ Oliver would glower, hands on the principle’s desk and leaning over it with a lot more intimidation than you’d think. Because the principle tells him what the other girl said that prompted Alice to act out…

Connor gives Alice a stern talking to in the car ride back.

“Tell me the truth… did you start it?” He’d ask, tone purposefully guarded and low.

Alice would look down at her lap, playing with the ends of her sleeves. “I hit her… but she started it…” her voice quiet. “She said if I don’t have a mom, I don’t have a real family.”

Connor’s grip around the steering wheel tightens hard enough to make a noise of protest. He couldn’t punish Alice for standing up for her family… especially after what the other girl said. Hell, he’d have the same reaction if he were in Alice’s shoes.

After Connor takes too long sorting his thoughts out, Alice speaks from the passenger seat.

“We’re a real family, right?”

“Yes,” Connor answers immediately. They’ve stopped at a red light. He looks over at Alice. Her eyes are big and brown, like Connor’s. “A lot of kids have two dads, Ali, a lot of kids also have two moms, and there’s also moms and dads…” Connor starts, licking his lips and focusing on the road again. 

“It doesn’t matter if there’s moms or dads, what matters is that we love and care for each other, okay?” Connor looks briefly down at Alice, who nods, still fiddling with her sleeves. Connor wishes Oliver were here (he had only come from work and had to go back), he’d know what to say.

“You still shouldn’t have hit her though, Ali.”

“She deserved it,” the 6-year old said glumly. Connor cracked a grin at that, biting his bottom lip to hide it before she saw.

“Let me tell you something babe. Never throw the first punch,” Connor met her eyes seriously. “But if they come at you first, _then_ beat the crap out of them.”

Alice giggles and Connor relaxes a bit.

“Wanna get some ice cream?”

“I’m not in trouble?” Alice asks in wonderment, her mood perking up.

Connor shrugs. He’d like to think not, but Oliver might have different plans. “We’ll see when Taytay gets home.”

Alice groaned and Connor outright laughed.

* * *

Periods: It was bound to happen, Connor and Oliver had been warned of this as soon as they started attending new parent meetings. It could happen when she was 9, it could happen when she turned 13, it all depended on her hormones.

Alice was a late bloomer.

It happened like a horror movie.

She was 13 and was getting ready for school. Oliver had already left for work and Connor was home, cleaning the dishes when he heard a scream from the bathroom.

He dropped the plate he’d been drying off, letting it shatter on the floor as he sprinted toward the bathroom, shouting Alice’s name.

Connor flung the bathroom door open, eyes wide and heart smashing in his rib cage, finding Alice curled up on the floor against the bathtub. Her legs brought up to her chest and fear all over her face.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Connor knelt in front of Alice, pushing her hair out of her face.

“I’m dying…” she whispered, her eyes on the toilet.

Connor’s brows furled, his worry increasing tenfold before he looked over to the toilet, then inside, seeing red.

_What the fu- oh._

_Oh._

“Oh my God, we forgot to tell you…” Connor whispered to himself, almost smacking his face into the porcelain bowl.

“What? That I’m dying?”

“You’re not dying, Alice,” Connor leveled his daughter with a _grow up_ look before softening his expression. “You’re… becoming a woman.”

Alice blinked at him dumbly.

* * *

Gets rid of the monsters: They take turns, but it’s mostly Connor. Whenever Alice runs into their room and shakes them awake, it’s usually Connor (cos he sleeps closest to the door) and Oliver is happy to push him out of the bed if it means going back to sleep.

“See, no monsters,” Connor would say, lifting up the sheets and looking under her bed.

Alice would insist. “No, it’s invisible, I heard him.”

“Well, then I’ll just have to scare him away I guess.” And Connor would growl and howl and make all kinds of strange noises (Oliver is laying in their bed rolling his eyes with a grin). Alice would giggle, satisfied, and be able to fall asleep afterwards.


	39. After the breakup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the 3.02 sneak peak where Connor says, “He thinks he wants some space but, clearly I’ll be changing his mind by the end of the week.”

Connor resorting to sexual tactics wasn’t new, just something he hadn’t done in a while.

And while he and Oliver had split up… they hadn’t discussed their living situation yet. It was understood that Connor had no where to go, and with a fleeting glance the night Oliver told him it was over, Connor resigned himself to the couch.

Did that mean Oliver was regretting his decision? Probably not, since he had explained to Connor the next day (after an awkward breakfast and Connor blowing up in the silence) that this was an idea he’d been playing with all summer. Connor was hurt, livid, and confused. Nothing made sense anymore and he swallowed the need to question Oliver further.

He feared continuing in this direction would ultimately lead to confessions Connor wasn’t ready to spill yet, so he ate the rest of his breakfast in thick silence, keeping his eyes on his plate as Oliver left first.

Since Connor wasn’t about to bare his soul to Oliver quite yet, he channeled his heartbreak into indifference… and then anger.

He’d show Oliver what he’d be missing. So with spite coursing through his veins, Connor came home the day after the breakup to an empty apartment, smirking.

He stripped off his clothes, flopping on the couch in his underwear. His legs spread wide as he snagged the remote, flicking the TV to a random show, and waited.

It was childish and dumb, but Connor didn’t care. He still lived here, why shouldn’t he still be allowed to lounge around in his briefs?

When Oliver came home, his tired eyes immediately found Connor’s… and his brows narrowed, looking away and walking in a straight line to the bedroom.

Connor frowned. Well, that wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for.

So he kept at it. Sometimes he’d walk out of the shower, not bothering to dry off and strutting around the apartment in a towel, letting it hang dangerously low on his hips. He knew Oliver loved his longer hair and felt the wet strands barely graze his shoulders.

He also didn’t miss how Oliver’s gaze had lingered on Connor a little too long, his body visibly tensing as he washed dishes in the kitchen.

Connor sauntered up right next to him, watching Oliver take a breath into his mouth to steady himself. Connor smirked in pre-victory.

“Can I dry those off for you?”

“I’m good,” Oliver answered, voice strained. His eyes remained focused on his task.

Connor leaned to the side slightly, his arm touching Oliver’s. “Thanks for dinner,” his head lifted into Oliver’s space, too close for social norms. “I really enjoyed it.”

Oliver didn’t move away, maybe to prove a point that Connor’s antics weren’t affecting him, or because he actually liked the closeness.

“No problem,” he bit out. And Connor tried not to deflate.

During class Connor would stare at Oliver, waiting til their eyes met and licking his lips suggestively, his eyes shooting over to Annlise’s desk and back.

Oliver would take a deep breath, compose himself, and look away.

This went on for a week, Oliver’s persistent wall seeming to crumble every day, Connor’s flaunting getting more and more bold. It was a Friday when Connor had told himself today he’d try flirting, teasing, something more than the physical taunts he was performing right now.

But as he arrived at the door of 303, a skip in his step, his stomach dropped to his shoes.

Outside the door was a pile of boxes and suitcases.

Connor felt his heart freeze, making his entire body run cold and numb. He took a shaky step forward, taking in the clutter that was obviously his.

A single white piece of paper sat atop a box. Connor swallowed, finding the action difficult as he extended a shaky hand to pick it up.

_Slide your key under the door.  
_ _Don’t come back._


	40. Finding each other again through tinder

Tinder was weird. Like, not as vain as humpR, still full of guys who just wanted random hookups, but there was definitely more options for a relationship to start. Although when you could just swipe left or right based on one photo, vanity was still a thing.

Oliver would always check out a man’s bio, never judging on looks alone, because he wasn’t looking for a one-time thing (though a lot of the men he matched with wanted that). He’d been on a few dates, most going really well, friendly, but never a spark really. And if there was a burning interest on Oliver’s end to take it further, it never happened. Oliver blamed his poor social skills for that one, wondering if he came off too needy or nervous.

As a man nearing his thirties, Oliver chastised himself enough for sinking so low as to use a “dating” app, but it is what it is. And he’d feel embarrassed about it later.

One particular Friday night found Oliver in his apartment, drinking alone and absentmindedly browsing Tinder while Netflix played in the background. Being a little tipsy while he chatted with strangers was always a little easier, like being at a bar, without the awkward fidgeting and giggles he still hadn’t grown out of.

Swipe, swipe, swipe, take a sip of his rum and coke, swipe… then a familiar face made Oliver pause, the rim of the glass pressed against his bottom lip. On his screen was a devastatingly handsome man, lips pulled up in a half smile, hair combed back, scruff well-maintained, wearing a suit jacket sharp enough to cut. He was posed on a sidewalk, as if someone just stopped him on the street and asked for his picture. Oliver swallowed, looking below the picture to confirm his obvious recognition:

Connor, 27.

Oliver rolled his glass along his lips, staring in contemplation before clicking on the picture, reading Connor’s short bio.

_I’m not big on talking. Send me something nice._

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. Guess his playboy ex hadn’t changed in the past five years. He swiped through the pictures Connor had, recognizing one with Michaela at a bar, a selfie of him sweaty and rugged in the woods, hiking, and one more with him lounging against a brick wall, looking like a model straight out of a men’s magazine.

They hadn’t spoken since Oliver broke up with him, after Connor admitted he had cheated on him. It had been rough, humiliating, and broke something in Oliver that took a long time to mend. Curiosity and drunken logic found Oliver swiping right, his heart leaping into his throat after he realized what he’d done.

But then immediately after, the screen dimmed, and a message flashed up: “It’s a match!”

Oliver’s breath hitched. Connor had found him too, and apparently also swiped right.

Now what? Oliver waited, watching his phone in gross anticipation. He set it down, trying to focus on whatever show was on his TV, taking another sip of his drink.

His eyes shifted down to his phone, wondering if Connor would message him first, or at all. Maybe he also drunkenly swiped right. Oliver couldn’t even know when it happened… he hadn’t had Tinder for long, maybe a month or so, Connor might not have found him tonight… not on a Friday.

Most likely Connor was at a bar, chatting up a nice looking stranger to go home with… then walk out before the other guy even thought of going to sleep.

A notification flashed on Oliver’s phone, he had received a message on Tinder.

Downing the rest of his drink, Oliver opened the app and attempted to calm his erratic heart as he opened Connor’s message.

_Fancy meeting you here_

Oliver laughed to himself.

_I could say the same thing. Thought dating sites weren’t your thing_

Immediately after:

_Tinder is a socially recognized hookup app, c'mon Oliver, you know this._

_Is that why you’re here?_

A long pause. Oliver pulled his legs up and brought a throw pillow into his lap.

_Kinda, humpr gets boring_

Oliver stared at the words, tapping his finger on the phone.

_Are you dating?_

Another pause. Oliver wondered what Connor was doing, where he was.

_I’m trying_

Oliver rested his chin on his knees, watching the screen. It had been so long since he’d spoken to Connor, this should be awkward; they ended on such bad terms but… all Oliver could feel was familiarity and warmth. So Connor was trying to date, did that mean he wanted a relationship now? Was he trying to be serious, monogamous?

_I miss having a boyfriend… for how much I whined and deflected on it, it was good with you_

Oliver pulled his lips in, guarding himself. Connor sent another soon after.

_Really good._

Sighing, Oliver shut his eyes, tucking his head lower so his forehead rubbed against his knees. Connor didn’t get to do this. Giving Oliver and amazing 3-year friendship and then the best 6 months of his life as “lovers” before sleeping with some other dude, admitting it a month after it happened, and then offering nothing but radio silence and now _this_. This… unconventional meet-up with Connor basically admitting he missed Oliver.

 _Stop that_ , Oliver sent, sighing loudly.

_Sorry_

Oliver rubbed his hand down his face, abandoning his phone for the time being and taking his glass to the kitchen for a refill.

When he came back, Connor had sent him another message.

_What are you up to?_

Trying to play it casual.

_You mean right now?_

_Sure._

Oliver looked around, shoulders slumping.

_Home alone, drinking and Netflix._

_So same ‘ol same ‘ol, huh?_

Oliver couldn’t help but grin at that.

_Well you know what they say, all work and no play…_

That was the rum talking. Oliver still felt the need to be careful, but the alcohol brought out his old fondness for the easy, flirty banter Connor and him used to exchange.

 _Have you been seeing anyone?_ Connor sent after a few minutes. Oliver wondered if he’d resisted responding to that in a dirty way.

_Eh, a few here and there, nothing serious._

Silence.

_You?_

More silence. Oliver reminded himself to ask Connor what he was doing right now.

_Same. Nothing substantial, just screwing around like usual_

Oliver could practically hear the sarcasm dripping off that reply.

_That’s what you’re best at._

Oliver flinched at his own words. It’s been years, he really should back off. But before he could apologize or amend that, Connor responded.

… _are you drunk?_

Oliver quirked an eyebrow. _I said I was drinking._

_Yeah but, you’re always so much more sassy when you’re actually drunk._

Oliver huffed, but he was smiling.

A long silence followed after that. Oliver knew it was his turn to talk, but he didn’t know what else to say. Well, he had a lot to say, a lot he wanted to ask. He wanted to know how Connor was, did he get his dream job, was he still friends with that doucheface who crashed on their couch that one time…

Mostly he wondered if Connor thought about him as much as Oliver did. A part of Oliver always hated that he never gave Connor the chance to explain himself further, that he just pushed Connor out and never responded to his texts and calls. And how quickly Connor moved on, seemingly angry and forgetting about Oliver.

Oliver always questioned if they would have ever worked out… they were both irrational and impulsive, it worked as a crazy friendship, but it was dangerously unhealthy as a relationship. They never talked about their problems and had a lot of angry sex… it was intense and amazing. Connor had been the best sex Oliver ever had, hands down. Their sexual chemistry was always in synch and on fire… it made talking not seem that important.

But they had both been young, reckless. Oliver had been Connor’s first boyfriend and he had admitted during their short relationship that he wasn’t sure if he was “doing this right,” but he always tried, for Oliver… and it seemed sweet at the time.

Was it though? Had Connor grown and matured at all from the experience? The fact that he never tried speaking with Oliver didn’t help much… though Oliver couldn’t blame him, since it was himself that acted so dramatic about Connor’s regretful confession.

Oliver was just thinking about bed when his phone alerted him to a message from Tinder.

_Why did you swipe me?_

Oliver was very drunk now. He should probably wait til morning to respond to anything further, but a familiar ache in his chest resurfaced as he clutched his phone tight.

 _Why did you?_ He countered.

_Just hopeful, I guess. You?_

_Curious… I guess. And drunk._

_I’m drinking too. Wouldn’t have the guts to message you otherwise._

Oliver smiled, touching the phone to his forehead. When he brought it back, Connor had sent another message.

_I know it’s been forever, and i’m not asking you to forgive me, but I really am sorry about what I did. I’ll never get over how much I hurt you…_

Oliver sank back into the couch, clutching the throw pillow tightly to his chest. He waited for something more, Connor defending himself or rambling about what happened, but nothing followed.

He swallowed, tapping out his response slowly.

_I forgive you_

_Thanks_

And then:

_You’re still too good for me_

Oliver sighed.

_Well I don’t know about that… it’s been a while, why don’t we catch up?_

Instantly: _I’d love to._

Oliver bit his lip, his heart was thumping again.

_Busy tomorrow morning?_

_Nope._

_Let’s have breakfast._

A short pause.

_Sounds amazing._

Oliver grinned. He’d be nervous about this tomorrow, but right now, drunk off rum and high off old memories, good and bad, he couldn’t wait to see Connor.


	41. Hawaii vacation

It started with a plastic bin, full of old papers and photographs, that initially peaked Connor’s curiosity.

Not just old Polaroids or family portraits, but landscapes, objects, people, captured in vivid color with warmth or odd angles that gave each picture a theme or emotion, painted on glossy paper.

“Hey.”

Connor craned his head back, watching Oliver walk into the bedroom, crouching down next to him.

“I didn’t say you could snoop through my things,” Oliver said, but his tone was light.

Connor picked up a random photo from the mess he’d created looking through all of them. “What’s all this?”

Oliver sat down fully, crossing his legs and taking the picture from Connor.

“Stuff I did in undergrad.” He looked at the image in his hands, an old memory softening his eyes.

“Photography?” Connor asked, bewildered. Oliver had never mentioned it, always stressing about his jobs and skills in computer technology, never anything… artsy like this.

Although Connor saw the little Panasonic camera atop Oliver’s mantel or the similar Fuji sitting with Oliver’s books in the living room, Connor never thought anything more to them than decoration. And although Oliver was a whiz with his iPhone (his Instagram account was one of those aesthetically pleasing ones, with sunsets and buildings and candids that Connor used to make fun of but now is secretly jealous of), Connor never bothered asking Oliver how he was so good, or why he liked taking pictures. Why Oliver would stop as they were enjoying a leisurely walk along the pier to snap a few moments while Connor pretended to huff irritably.

The evidence was all there, but it was never forefront, never really obvious. And Oliver never talked about it so, why hold on to old work from college if not to use in a portfolio?

Oliver shrugged, setting the picture back in the cluttered plastic bin and collecting the scattered pieces on the floor into a neat pile and replacing those in the container as well.

“It was just a minor, a hobby while I killed myself working tech support and studying nonstop.”

Oliver spoke like it was nothing, something to be forgotten, but it sparked a flame of interest in Connor, something new about his boyfriend. He felt like an idiot for never questioning it before, never asking more details about Oliver’s past (though he figured that was fine, since Oliver never grilled Connor about his past life much).

But Connor was finally done with law school… he’d passed the bar exam and won Oliver back last year. A promise to be more open and honest and trusting. It had been hard, crazy hard. Connor didn’t think they’d come back around after the break up, but he knew he had to try. Connor knew he had work to do to fix their relationship, but it was a project he was more than willing to put all his effort into. He loved Oliver, and he never realized how much until he was gone.

Oliver kissed Connor on the cheek, grunting as he stood up. “C'mon, I told you to pack not rummage through my closet, let’s go.”

Connor grinned, taking another lingering look at the pictures before replacing the lid and pushing it to the back of Oliver’s closet, pulling out a suitcase instead.

This was a new chapter in their lives, or so Oliver said when he brought up the idea of moving out of Philly, before Connor even acquired his new job. In a sudden string of good luck, Connor had approached an IP lawyer at a convention close to the school, who gave him a tip about a firm hiring in Washington, DC. Connor studied for his bar exam while on the train to the office, was able to get an interview that same day, and got the job a week later.

Connor only knew horror stories in Philadelphia, Middleton and Annalise, and was all too eager and excited to leave, start something fresh with Oliver, who took Connor back despite everything.

Connor was terrified this was all too good to be true, and reality would come crashing down hard sooner or later. Connor knew he wasn’t good enough for Oliver, but he’d try his damnedest to prove how much he appreciated, cared for and loved Oliver for having him back anyway.

They left together a few days after graduation, after packing and finding the old photos (which came along). Connor had said goodbye to his classmates after the ceremony, swallowed an unexpected lump in his throat when Michaela looked around their small circle– him, Asher, Laurel– and started to cry. It wasn’t in Connor’s character, but in that moment, surrounded by his peers, his friends, knowing what they all went through and still managing to come out of it all, he pulled Michaela into a tight hug, soon feeling the others embrace around them. They were all thinking the same thing: Wes should be here.

In a moment where Connor felt lighter than ever, he realized he’d miss the gang. They’d all been through so much, too much, and they were Connor’s best friends. Leaving was kind of scary, but also extraordinarily uplifting, like just the physical step of turning away from Philly was enough to clean Connor’s slate, erasing the past by leaving it in that city.

The following Christmas, after 6 months of exploring DC and rebuilding a foundation with Oliver, Connor bought him the best digital camera on the market. He’d been saving up for it since he discovered that bin full of gorgeous photographs and knew he’d be making a worthwhile investment.

And Oliver loved it. Connor guessed he wasn’t that subtle with his gift, what with him suddenly taking a rousing interest in Oliver’s forgotten passion. But Oliver still appeared awestruck and grateful with the gift, his eyes misting over.

But now… it was like the camera was permanently affixed to Oliver’s hand.

Not that Connor minded so much… after all, it was a new side to his boyfriend that he’d never seen before, and Oliver seemed very happy with it (although he mostly used it indoors). He took pictures of Connor waking up or leaning over right after sex to capture Connor’s blissed out face, too worn out and satisfied to cover himself or turn away from the camera.

Taking pictures after fucking naturally transitioned to making a sex tape… and then another… before long, Connor started to wonder if he’d created a monster. The camera certainly added a new, fun element to their lives, but sometimes Connor felt like Oliver spent just a little too much time fiddling with the damn thing and taking nonsense pictures.

Of course Connor expected Oliver to bring his expensive toy, complete with 3 new lenses, on their summer vacation the following year. He didn’t complain, just giving his boyfriend a look of, _really?_ and Oliver throwing Connor a look back that said, _yes, really_.

Hawaii was, obviously, gorgeous, Connor couldn’t blame Oliver for taking a million pictures, the DSLR’s shutter flip becoming background noise as he stared out of their hotel balcony and the sunset over the never ending water.

Eventually Oliver put the camera down and, although they were both jet lagged, they watched the sunset until everything went dark and the stars sparkled.

Connor took Oliver’s hand, tugging him over and lazily planting a kiss on Oliver’s mouth, their fingers tangling together playfully at their sides.

“I never thought I’d be here,” Connor murmured along Oliver’s lips, eyes closed still.

“What? In Hawaii?” Oliver grinned sleepily.

Connor huffed a laugh, his fingers tightening around Oliver’s and stepping closer so their fronts touched.

“No I mean, right here. Kissing under the stars like some cliche chick-flick, in love and all that,” Connor lowered his head, hiding his face in Oliver’s neck. He felt sleep pressing down on him, making him ramble.

Oliver wrapped his arms around Connor, hugging him close and kissing the top of his head.

“It’s about to get a whole lot cheesier starting tomorrow.”

“I’m so ready for it,” Connor spoke into Oliver’s neck, kissing the spot under his ear. “I wanna try hula lessons together.”

Connor could almost hear Oliver’s eyes roll. “We’ll see about that.”

They both shared a quiet laugh before Oliver took Connor’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones, quietly watching each other’s eyes.

“You love me?” Oliver whispered.

“Grossly,” Connor replied with a grin, leaning into Oliver’s caress, his eyes slipping shut in content. “You love me?”

Oliver nodded. “Insanely.”

Connor chuckled. “I like our dynamic.”

It wasn’t long before Connor dragged Oliver to bed, both quietly snuggling into each other in the center of the large mattress, exhaustion and the warmth of one another quickly plunging them to sleep.

The next day found the men having breakfast on the beach, exploring the town, and, at Connor’s laughing insistence, hula dancing lessons.

They were finally relaxing at the hotel’s massive pool, after abusing the water slide, lounging in chairs with colorful umbrella shades with fruity cocktails… with the addition one one heavy black object.

“This vacation has been great, you know?” Connor started, laying sideways on his chair and facing Oliver while he played with some settings on the DSLR.

“Yeah?” Oliver said distractedly.

“Yeah, just the three of us. You, me, and that camera.”

Oliver stopped what he was doing abruptly, turning his head slowly to his boyfriend with a cocked eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

“C’mon, Ollie. I think you’ve seen me through that viewfinder more than with your own eyes,” Connor teased, his wet hair flopping in his face.

Oliver snorted, shaking his head, but he looked back down at his camera anyway. “You’re exaggerating,” he looked back up at Connor. “And ridiculous.”

“Whatever, Hitchcock.” Connor sat up, adjusting his swim trunks, noting Oliver’s head shake with a smile. “Gonna get some more footage? I’m about to make an epic cannonball and I want to make sure you get it.”

Connor knew what that look from Oliver meant, the one he was giving him right now. It said, _“See? You do love the camera, stop being such a bitch.”_ and it made both of them grin humorously.

“Ready when you are, my love,” Oliver said instead, straightening out and flipping the camera to video mode.

Connor waited ‘til he saw the little red light, indicating the device was indeed recording before crawling off his long folding chair, turning his head to look right into the camera, and speaking in a low but clear voice:

“Marry me.” Connor’s lips naturally quirked in that old-fashioned smirk before stepping out of frame, amused by Oliver’s visibly stunned reaction, nearly dropping the camera.

“Con-” Before Oliver can finish, Connor swiped the camera away, perching himself at the end of Oliver’s chair and pointing the camera at him (for a change).

“Ready to put the camera down now?”

A ghost of a smile threatens to spread across Oliver’s face.

“Wait, what did you say?”

Practicing his cinematography skills, Connor slipped off the chair and sank to his knees, tilting the camera up to capture Oliver’s flabbergasted face.

“That wasn’t a no.”

“It also wasn’t a question.” Oliver laughed nervously, with a twinge of disbelief and hope.

Connor shrugged, lifting his lashes from the viewfinder to Oliver’s wide eyes, feeling himself smiling along with Oliver, wide and foolish, a million secret messages passing between them that only they could understand.

“Some day.” Connor shrugged, turning the camera off.

They watched each other for a few seconds more, their breathing steadily becoming labored, eyes growing wide and hungry. Before either of them were aware, Connor and Oliver began leaning in, Connor halfheartedly dropping the camera onto his empty seat as he suddenly surged forward, bridging himself over Oliver and crashing their lips together.

Oliver pushed himself forward, so their chests touched and wrapped his arms around Connor’s shoulders, pulling him closer as he kissed back with a passion that matched the first time they met, years ago and reckless. Connor’s moan muffled against Oliver’s lips was met with teeth teasingly biting down and a tongue licking Connor’s mouth open. Connor felt his chest tighten and his stomach lurch, but it wasn’t painful or queasy, it was desperate and nervous, like this kiss was another start to something, falling in love, breaking up, falling in love again, moving, discovering new things, and… this. Something that made Connor physically _feel_. It was scary, but also exciting, an adrenaline rush.

Oliver broke the kiss far too soon, sucking all the air from Connor’s lungs and making him whine immodestly, chasing Oliver’s lips with a force that knocked them back onto the long chair.

“Connor,” Oliver warned, his voice thick and deep, hands on Connor’s chest to prevent him from continuing. “Wanna head back to the room?” Oliver managed to spit out, his breathing labored.

Connor finally focused his wide eyes on Oliver’s, losing himself in the dark color, heavy with bad intentions and cracked a smile. He’d forgotten where they were, outside, surrounded by other tourists trying to enjoy their vacation as well. Connor didn’t even register he’d popped a boner in full view of the mid-day sun… which was currently resting against Oliver’s as well, pitched high and impossible to deny in those flimsy board shorts.

With an evil spark in his eyes, Connor ground down once, just to know how it felt to do it in public and was rewarded with a choked moan from Oliver, followed by a heated glare that did nothing to reprimand Connor.

“Your voyeurism is showing,” Connor whispered, leaning low to give Oliver’s ear a sharp bite.

“Trust me,” Oliver started, finally shoving Connor up and away from him, “if we weren’t under the threat of being kicked out of the resort, I’d fuck you right here and not give a damn who’s watching.”

“Shit,” Connor gasped, feeling heat rise up his neck. “Maybe not the best idea.”

Oliver snickered. “Against the full windows in our room will have to do.”

Connor’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, speechless as Oliver took his hand, making sure to snag the camera as well, and pulled Connor along, back into the building. 


	42. Swimming pool shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: coliver + do it. i dare you.

“I think you’ve had enough, Connor,” Oliver tried placating his boyfriend, steadying him with a hand on his shoulders.

Connor was wobbling, the wine sloshing around dangerously in his precarious hand.

“Con-” Oliver sighed, nabbing the glass out of Connor’s grip as he made to take a sip.

“Ollie, _no_ , it’s an open bar and I’m a stressed out lawyer, please,” Connor whined/grumbled.

Oliver smiled to himself, setting the expensive stemware on a random surface and leading Connor out of the room, where eloquently dressed figureheads mingled and laughed, perhaps tipsy but being professional about it.

The head of the law firm Connor worked for had gotten hitched, the ceremony was long over, the reception taken place on one of their lavish estates. The room Oliver was carting Connor out of now had a crystal chandelier and marble surfaces, it was lavish but not over the top… very fitting for an upscale wedding such as this.

But it was past 1am and people still lingered, dressed to the T, dancing, congratulating, making full use of the free food and open bar just as Connor had.

“It’s past your bed time, mister lawyer,” Oliver teased, leading Connor down an unfamiliar hallway, trying to find an exit and nodding politely to people as he went, stubbornly refusing to ask for direction in case Connor opened his drunk mouth.

“Who are you, my mom?” Connor snickered, hair falling in his face.

Oliver shook his head with a grin.

They stopped in front of two glass doors, unlocked, and Oliver pushed them through it, stepping onto a clean patio lined with flowers. Carefully stepping down the short steps, their polished shoes clicking on stone, both Connor and Oliver’s eyes rose to an underground pool, lit up and crystal blue.

Connor gasped. “Pool.”

“No,” Oliver saw the mischievous, drunk twinkle in Connor’s eyes. Outside of their home, Connor was an upstanding citizen, professional, successful, no-nonsense lawyer. But in the comfort of their home, around Oliver, the older man knew Connor was still a kid at heart and could get himself into the most ridiculous situations, sometimes leading him into trouble which Oliver had to bail him out of.

Oliver tried to turn Connor away from the tempting sight (he’d never had a pool growing up and it was a foolish desire to some day own one), but the young man stood firm, tugging at his already wrinkled tie so it loosened up even more.

“One little dip, no one will notice,” Connor spoke quickly, shimmying out of his jacket, letting it fall to the ground in a heap before Oliver could protest.

“No one will notice? Connor, there’s still dozens of people inside, this isn’t our home, _what are you doing_?” Oliver hissed as Connor finally detached himself from Oliver fully, hopping on one foot as he pulled a shoe off.

“Is it hot out here?” Connor turned to Oliver with a wicked smirk, throwing the shoe over his shoulder dramatically.

“I swear to God, Con-”

“Oliver, relax.” Connor dropped the other shoe and put his hands on Oliver’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes seriously.

Oliver sighed, wiping his hand down his face.

“You’re going to get us into trouble,” Oliver said flatly. To be honest, any other time he’d go along with Connor’s ridiculousness. Living with Connor, being with him was freeing and fun, liberating. But this was someone’s home, probably not lived in but certainly someone else’s property, which they shouldn’t be playing around with.

“They never said no pool access,” Connor’s smirk threatened to come back. “It’s summer, it’s hot as balls out here, we deserve to play.”

“You’re 30 years old.”

“And you’re 35,” Connor dropped his hands. “Still in the prime of our lives.”

Oliver shook his head, biting his lips to prevent himself from smiling.

“You know what?” Connor nudged Oliver. “I dare you to jump in, full suit.”

“What?” Oliver laughed at Connor.

“Do it, I dare you.” Connor licked his lips, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets and waiting.

Oliver stared back at his boyfriend, a million reasons why he shouldn’t give in (like he usually did) flying through his head, trying to pick at least one good reason to pick Connor up, throw him over his shoulder, and carry him back home, safe and _dry_.

But where was the fun in that?

“As long as you jump with me.”

The smile Connor flashed at him could stop a man’s heart. Luckily it’d been thrown at Oliver enough that he was immune, mostly. It still got his heart racing though.

They walked to the edge, Connor stumbling because he couldn’t take his eyes off Oliver.

“You better not chicken out.”

Oliver took Connor’s hand, making like he was getting ready to jump in, before stepping back. Connor turned with him, giving Oliver his best pout, before Oliver grinned wickedly.

He dropped Connor’s hand and shoved his chest, making the man cry out and fall backwards into the pool.

The splash echoed throughout the back yard, water falling on the stone patio at Oliver’s feet. He smiled victoriously as Connor came up for air, sputtering indignantly.

“What the fuck?” But Connor didn’t sound angry, he was smiling wide.

Oliver pulled his own shoes and jacket off, shaking his head whilst doing so.

“I hate that you make me do this.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Connor floated away, giving Oliver ample room to jump in, blinking away the water as it splashed up with the impact.

As soon as Oliver came up, wiping his eyes, Connor was there, tackling him with a giggle and causing Oliver to stumble back in slow motion.

“This is why I love you,” Connor breathed against Oliver’s lips.

“Because I’ll do anything you say?” Oliver joked, his arms snaking around Connor’s hips and pulling him close. The water was cool and comfortable, making the men feel weightless.

Connor kissed Oliver, the water making it slippery.

“Because you’d do anything _with_ me,” Connor sighed, kissing up Oliver’s jaw.

Oliver’s hold around Connor tightened, floating backward as Connor continued kissing and licking down his neck.

“We’re gonna get in so much trouble for this,” Oliver reiterated, eyes slipping shut regardless and giving in.

Connor bit down hard on the junction between Oliver’s neck and shoulder, sucking skin into his mouth causing Oliver to moan obscenely.

“Worth it.”


	43. Oliver finds out Connor is married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: scrolling down that prompt list, "rise and fucking shine, motherfucker.” jumped out at me. could be angry, could be humourous...
> 
> (I made it angry lol)

“Rise and shine, motherfucker!” Oliver shouted, yanking the sheets off Connor and turning away from his naked body.

“What the fuck-” Connor flinched, his body curling up, seeking warmth without the blankets. “Oliver, what-”

“Get the fuck out of my bed.” Oliver’s voice rang loud and dangerous against the walls of the bedroom.

Connor’s sleep-fogged brain slowly woke up with the rest of his body, stiffly sitting up, trying to analyze the situation and why Oliver was shouting.

“What’s happening?” Connor mumbled, rubbing one eye.

Connor barely moved when a pair of pants were thrown over his head, but it seemed to do the trick of bringing him to full consciousness.

“What are you doing?” Connor ripped the jeans from his face, glaring up at Oliver, who was moving around the room, gathering his clothes and dumping them on Connor.

“You’re married?!” Oliver accused in a shriek. Connor ducked his head to avoid the shoes flying toward his head.

“Shit-” Connor fell off the bed, grabbing the shoes nearby, shuffling to his feet. “No! Christ stop throwing my shit!”

Before he could blink Oliver was shoving Connor’s phone in his face, lit up by a text: _“Don’t forget to pick the kids up from school today!”_

Connor’s blood ran cold, his mouth opening to supply a lie before his silence could incriminate him.

“It’s my brother, I’m watching his kids this weekend-”

Oliver’s sarcastic laugh interrupted Connor’s rambling. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

“No…” But Connor’s voice sounded small. He swallowed hard.

Oliver turned around, shaking his head. He picked up Connor’s jacket from the floor, the first piece of clothing that had been torn off when Connor first arrived last night.

He slowed down while handling the jacket, clutching the collar, feeling the material between his fingers and sighing loudly. Connor watched, his clothes wadded up in his arms, blood rushing through his veins.

Oliver knocked his head back, inhaling deeply, collecting himself, before reaching into a pocket of Connor’s jacket and procuring a simple gold band. He held the ring out to Connor, who finally deflated, shoulders slumping, staring at the floor.

“Three months together…” Oliver trailed off, like he wanted to say more. Like he wanted to believe what they had wasn’t real, and they were just fooling around happily. Like Connor wasn’t using him for late night fucks while going home in the day to his husband; to his _family_.

“What the fuck are you doing?” It was almost rhetoric, like Oliver didn’t want to hear a word out of Connor. Defeat, betrayal, agony rolled off Oliver and struck Connor through the chest. He must’ve known this would happen eventually, Connor knew he couldn’t keep up this charade forever.

“I just…” Connor’s voice was quiet, broken. “It wasn’t meant to last this long.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hysteria rose in Oliver’s voice.

“Greg and I have a shit marriage, alright?” Connor finally snapped, dropping his clothes save for his underwear, quickly pulling the briefs on. “That night at the bar, we had our worst fight and I just needed…” He gestured weakly towards Oliver, running the hand through his hair afterward.

Connor bends over to grab his shirt, avoiding Oliver’s red-rimmed eyes, moisture building up like he’d start crying.

“He probably goes out and fucks too, certainly knows I don’t give a shit anymore.” Connor pulled the shirt over his head, sniffling, mortified to feel the lump of anguish in his throat.

“Stop it, Connor.”

“We don’t get a divorce for the kids,” Connor rambled on, pulling on his jeans. “I mean, what kid wants to grow up with separated parents.”

“Shut up!” Oliver voice cracks. He smacks his hand over his mouth, muffling the first sob.

A chill shoots down Connor’s spine, making him go cold with nerves and fear, fear that he’s fucked up beyond repair this time.

“I’m so sorry, Ollie.” Connor takes a hesitant step toward Oliver, who snaps up to attention, glaring daggers.

“Get out. Sorry can’t fix this.”

“I never meant to take it this far, please,” Connor begged, reaching his hands out, wondering what good it would do.

Oliver stepped back, his fingers balling into tight fists at his sides.

“What did you think would happen?” Oliver’s jaw hangs open a few seconds more, the anger and hurt nearly rendering him speechless. “That I’d be okay with being your side bitch?”

Connor marches up to Oliver, fighting to take his hands while Oliver stumbles back, struggling to remain tall and firm.

“Ollie,” Connor grunts, gritting his teeth. “Stop fighting– let me explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain!” Oliver shouts, finally ripping his hands free and shoving Connor’s chest, forcing him to stagger backwards.

Oliver takes a few ragged breaths, pulling a hand through his hair. “You’re a cheater and a liar.”

Connor remains silent, forcing himself to stare Oliver in the eyes, which are welling up with tears.

“Shit…” Oliver chokes, wiping his eyes and turning away briefly. “I was falling in love with you…”

“So am I…” Connor spoke softly, licking his lips. He made sure to speak in present tense, he probably already loved Oliver… if this pain in his chest was any indication. The thought of losing Oliver, of never seeing him again, made Connor shake with regret.

He should have told Oliver the first night… hell, before anything had even happened at the bar. But Oliver was a good, loyal man, Connor would have never gotten him if he’d announced he was “faithful” to someone else. He’d never known what true happiness was, what actual love and affection felt like. Oliver made Connor feel excitement in a way he never thought possible. He wasn’t re-encountering love, Connor was finding it for the first time, and he was terrified of losing it, of losing Oliver, that he never told him the one truth that would end them.

An agonizing silence stretched between them, both men remembering, thinking of all the times Connor had to bail on something last minute, of the quick visits and secluded dates far from town… of exquisite hotel rooms that should have been the first tip that something wasn’t right.

“I’m such an idiot…” Oliver murmured, rubbing a hand down his face, agonizing acceptance falling over him like a lead blanket. “Three fucking months…”

“Oliver…” Connor inhaled wetly, his own vision going blurry. “Please…”

Oliver shook his head again.

“Go back to your husband, your kids…” Oliver turned around, like just facing Connor was physical torture. “Stop fucking up my life, focus on your own mess.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you, now,” Connor said pathetically. He knew it was over, that there was nothing he could say or do to take this back. But he wanted a chance. Just a shot to prove he only loved Oliver, that he only made love to Oliver, that all he could see behind his eyelids was _Oliver_.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Oliver whispered, keeping his back to Connor.

Oliver waited until he heard the shuffle of Connor collecting the rest of his things, silently moving through the room, and the soft click of the door shutting, before he fell to the floor, letting the sobs wrack his body uncontrollably.


	44. Season 3 headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: If coliver didn't break up in 3.01, what would be your headcanons for how their relationship was in actual situations presented in season 3? Like was Connor actually happy to win that case in 3.02, did they play the slot machines together in 3.03, how were they at wes' birthday party, etc.

I think that case in episode 3.02 did wipe Connor out emotionally, you could see that he was taking it to a personal place. But overall I think he was glad Irene managed to finally get out. If Oliver and him were still together, I bet Connor would have shared more details about the case with him (more than just a distracting phone call. WHICH, btw, would have been a lot more openly flirty and goofy, leading Connor to bring up the lingerie again 

“so… have you ever felt the urge to try on women’s underwear again or was that just a phase?” inspiring Oliver to greet Connor at the door that evening, wearing something dark and lacy [a bustier set, no doubt], blushing like a mad man the entire time… to celebrate Connor’s win but also to distract him from the turmoil the case caused him, rather than talking it out. Connor, of course, would drop everything at the door and tackle Oliver).

I’ve never been to a casino, what’s there to do? lol. But let’s say Oliver and Connor played a lot against each other (Oliver is secretly a genius at Texas Hold‘em and nonchalantly offered a game with Connor with… interesting stakes. Connor may be a shrimp when it comes to poker, but he never expected Oliver to be so fucking good. After 45 minutes of playing Oliver not only has destroyed the ego of every person sitting around them, but also has racked up quite a list of new and exciting things to do to Connor once they get home [I headcanon, and it’s practically canon, that Oliver is an absolute maniac in bed. Connor brings out this sexual confidence in him and it makes him want to try everything possible]).

During Wes’ birthday party, they are the last to leave. Connor had gotten tired around 12am and fell asleep on Oliver’s shoulder (and just because I like the image, Michaela ends up drunkenly dozing off with her face smushed into Connor’s arm. Asher has to wake her up and take her home).

Once the apartment became silent, Wes nodding and quietly telling Oliver “thanks for coming,” Oliver knew it was time to take their leave. But when he tried to gently nudge Connor awake, all he got in response was an adorable whine and Connor’s arms wrapping around Oliver’s middle, nuzzling his face further into Oliver’s cardigan

And lastly, because I like angst, that little fight they had (where Connor says, “is that what you think of me? that I’m damaged?”) actually turns into Connor telling Oliver what really happened that night. No condescending, drunken leer of “i wasn’t high Oliver I was traumatized… like you don’t already know.” Because Oliver knows Connor by now and he should KNOW that Connor is deflecting (honestly it bothers the crap out of me that Annalise seems to understand Connor better than Oliver. Oh man, I’m thinking about that scene again in 3.14 where Annalise and Connor have it out- ANYWAY I DIGRESS) so instead of letting Connor leave he grabs him by the arm and makes him stay and that’s how it happens.

AND, sorry not sorry, because I believe even the smallest change of the past would effect the future, Oliver would not propose to Connor. Connor was a mess this season that started because of the breakup, and only got worse because he felt lonely and alienated… if he wasn’t feeling this way, I truly don’t believe he would have done something as stupid as trying to “fix” everything by going to the DA, and definitely not let himself get caught with that damn burner phone. So! He would not have gotten kidnapped and would not have worried the shit out of Oliver and therefore would NOT have prompted him to propose to Connor so recklessly and randomly.

*takes a deep breath*

But one of them would propose, most definitely. Maybe after graduation though. MAYBE AT THE GRADUATION CEREMONY. MISSED OPPORTUNITY PETE. 


	45. Connor brings his nephews to school

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I know he has a nephew and niece but i forgot that writing this)

“I hope it’s okay,” he hears Connor mumble to Annalise. The younger one is standing next to him, Connor has a hand on his shoulder to keep him there, while the older one has already sped off, running around the room.

“It’s fine,” Annalise answers, her eyes on the 7-year old running amok. “Just don’t let them distract the students.”

Connor is nodding when a crash sounds throughout the room, making Connor wince and spin around.

“Nathaniel!” Connor hisses. The boy is executing the “I didn’t do it” face flawlessly.

Oliver is ducking down, hiding his wide smile behind his laptop.

He hears Connor sigh and Annalise mutter something dark to him before she exits the room. Oliver dares to look up again, noticing the students around him most definitely becoming distracted by the boys.

But as Connor moves to sit down, beckoning Nathaniel over with a stern glare, the 5-year old catches Oliver’s eyes.

“Uncle Ollie!”

 _Oh shit._ Oliver’s smile hesitates as the younger one, Simon, detaches himself from Connor’s thigh and runs over to him with a goofy smile.

Oliver’s eyes race up to see Connor already watching him, confliction in his gaze. Oliver can’t ask what to do, if this is alright, before Simon is already scrambling to get on his lap.

In reflex, Oliver scoops him up, his own smile lighting back up. “Hey you, haven’t seen ya in a while.”

“Ollie!”

Oliver lets out a tiny cry as his chair is almost toppled over, Nathaniel grabbing an arm of the chair and using it as leverage to bounce up and down.

“You boys have gotten so big,” Oliver chuckles, bouncing his knee, making Simon giggle.

“Yeah, I can watch scary movies now.” Nathaniel agrees. He’s had the biggest growth spurt; Oliver can recognize the shirt Simon is wearing used to be Nathaniel’s.

Oliver laughs lightly. “You’re braver than me.”

“Hey guys,” Connor starts, awkwardly walking up to the three of them. His hands are clasped in front of him and Oliver can see him physically try to control his face into something casual.

“Let’s give Oliver some space to work, this is a quiet place.”

“Aw, do we _havta_?” Nathaniel lays his head on the arm of the chair and Oliver’s heart melts. He smiles up at Connor, _I’m sorry about all this._

 _Don’t be,_ is Connor’s returning smile, eyes soft.

“Yes, we havta,” Connor’s smile seems genuine now as he helps Simon off Oliver’s lap.

“We’ll see you back at Uncle Connor’s though!” Nathaniel bounces excitedly.

Oliver freezes, immediately casting his eyes away from those wide, innocent hazel ones, and Connor’s brown.

There’s a quiet tension between the four of them that the whole room can probably sense. 

Then Connor breaks the silence. “Yeah, you’ll see Uncle Ollie later.”

Oliver’s eyes blow wide, his heart kicking up as he fixes a stare with Connor.

Connor swallows, giving a shy, questioning smile at Oliver.

Oliver nods, brushing aside the worry, the joy, the apprehension of being around Connor again, pretending to still be apart of his life. Swallowing down the guilt of playing with Connor’s nephews even though he doesn’t have that privilege anymore, they both know that. But he understands why Connor’s doing this, at this very moment at least, it wouldn’t be proper to tell his nephews that they couldn’t call Oliver “Uncle Ollie” anymore. That they couldn’t bounce on his knees or talk to him…

“I’ll see you two later,” Oliver says, finally lowering his voice and shooing them to be with Connor. 

The boys wave at Oliver while Connor leads them away, casting a look over his shoulder that Oliver catches. Oliver notices Connor bite his lip just as he faces forward again.


	46. Merman!Connor and shipwrecked Oliver

Oliver groaned, his head spinning and his body feeling like lead. He blinked his eyes open and squinted, staring up at a clear blue, sunny sky. Sensing an invisible weight pressing him down, Oliver forced himself to move, rolling onto his side and promptly coughing up salt water. His fingers pressed down on sand, grabbing handfuls of it in vain to keep himself steady.

His fishing boat had capsized. After exploring further than he’d ever been, Oliver ran right into a storm, following after a huge splash in the distance. The last thing Oliver remembered as he tumbled in the treacherous water was a flash of silver in the blackened murk that looked like an oversized fish tail.

Oliver thought for sure he’d drown, his lungs screaming for air and his brain turned around, uncertain where the surface was. But here he was, safe on land, with the sun above like he dreamed up the storm.

He carefully lifted his head from the coarse ground, surveying the area. It was clear he was on an island, a barrier of trees stood before him, then black rocks and the sand he felt as if he was glued to. He heard the pleasant sound of the tide coming in and out over his harsh breathing.

“Get up,” Oliver rasped at himself, his throat burning from the salt. He moved slowly, carefully, checking for injuries and finding none as he sat up, turning his head to face the water.

He blinked at what he saw, wondering if it was a hallucination. There was a head sticking out of the water, or so Oliver thought he saw… followed by a quick splash and the glint of silver that brought Oliver back to his terror under the water, knowing he was going to die. That smooth sheen that shot around him at the time, Oliver thought he was losing his mind then, too.

“Hello?” Oliver tried, his voice a scratchy whisper. He grunted, standing up on shaky legs and stepping heavily to the water’s edge, his wet, worn out shoes sinking in the soaked sand. The tide brushed his ankles, inviting him back into the water. Yeah right.

Oliver stood still, staring out into the vast ocean. The waves were calm, a flat expanse of blue as far as the eye could see. Without even a ripple left over from what Oliver thought he saw. His brows furled, curious and uneasy. He turned around and decided to survey the area. He’d need to figure out where he was and plan an escape, but first food and shelter.

* * *

It happened again a few days later, the silver splash. Oliver discovered a coral reef just a short swim away from the island, and sat upon a rock, waiting for the return of some crabs he’d seen scurry away at his presence.

A distant splash snapped Oliver’s head up, looking out into the water and seeing nothing. He froze on his perch, slowly bringing his legs up to crouch over them. He’d be safe here if it was a shark, but Oliver would have to wait out the danger before swimming back to shore.

Oliver’s eyes scanned the ocean, holding his breath and waiting. He heard a very faint paddle of water behind him and turned around, gasping and smacking a hand over his mouth.

Before him was a man, only his shoulders and head were exposed, along with his hands, gently draping a large amount of, what must’ve been seaweed, over a nearby rock. He had gone still, wide brown eyes staring right back at Oliver, unblinking.

Oliver didn’t know what to do. And after the shock passed of seeing another person when he thought he was all alone, did Oliver’s eyes scan and discover blue, green, and silver flecks of color down the man’s neck– under his ear– and along his wrists. They glimmered in the sun like… scales, like fish scales. Though the majority of what Oliver saw was light colored skin like his, paler though, if you looked for only a second you’d assume the man was human.

But his ears were pointed up, long and sharp. Oliver swallowed, moving to lower his hand, but not getting far before the man darted back under the water in a flash, startled, spraying water up with a splash from his wide set, silver tail.

Oliver’s jaw was still hanging open after he left. He’d heard about merpeople, of course, remembering the stories from his village growing up. But they were always just a myth, people who claimed to have seen them brushed off as fools who’d stayed out in the sun for too long. They say to spot a mermaid brings bad fortune, and to interact with one, even worse consequences. Oliver knew it was all just a fairy tale though…

And yet, here Oliver was, maybe an arm-full of fresh seaweed placed before him, replaying that sight over and over again. A mermaid– mer _man_ – was the only explanation Oliver could come up with. And by gods he was magnificent, the most beautiful creature Oliver had even seen, human or otherwise. His hair a dark brown, wild, long, and curled by the water, framed his face beautifully. He had a sharp bone structure, pointed nose to go with his ears and a jaw line like a razor’s edge. And those _scales_. Oliver wondered what the rest of the creature’s body looked like. He wondered about his chest and his tail, if it was also green and blue, and how long it was.

Oliver could barely sleep that night, but when he did, it was to thoughts of silver.

* * *

A week later and Oliver was wondering if he’d ever see the merman again, or if he’d scared it away. He was getting sick of coconut water and knew he should be looking for a source of fresh water but, here he was again, waiting at the coral reef as he ritualistically did every day, hoping the stunning merman would bless him with his presence again.

After hours under the mid-day sun, Oliver pondering calling out to it. He never tried before, worried any sound might spook the creature, but like a sailorman under the spell of a siren, Oliver was becoming desperate for just one more look.

“Hey…” Oliver called out tentatively, slipping his hand in the water and dragging his fingers back and forth. “Are you there?”

The responding silence made Oliver feel foolish. He sighed, shaking his head. He really should get back to land and worry about the more pressing issue of water, when, not 20 feet away, a familiar head poked out from the water.

Oliver smiled, over joyed at seeing the man again.

“Hi…” Oliver said softly, licking his lips afterwards. He wasn’t sure how to go about this, but he was elated regardless at seeing such a beautiful sight again.

The head disappeared beneath the water again, only to reappear in an instant closer to Oliver, causing him to gasp in surprise, jumping lightly, before laughing at himself.

“You’re a fast swimmer.” Oliver smiled, scanning his eyes over what the merman allowed him to see, which was just from the bridge of his nose and up, hiding himself in the safety of the water.

The creature’s eyes were wide again, curious, nervous. He was much closer to Oliver now, so much so that Oliver could see that his eyes were only brown and black, no white like in a human eyeball. It was eerie, only in a foreign way because it was unnatural, but stunning, captivating. The brown spread out in almost a gradient, sparkling in the reflection of the water, his black irises moving like he was also studying Oliver.

“So gorgeous…” Oliver whispered. He fell silent again as the merman’s gaze fell to Oliver’s hand, still in the water.

Oliver gulped, heart thumping as he felt fingers bush his beneath the surface. The creature propelled himself up further, so his shoulders and neck were exposed, as he brought Oliver’s hand up in his, studying it.

The merman’s touch was soft and light, fingers feathering along his skin, brows narrowing in what looked like concern, surveying Oliver’s hand and up his forearm.

 _Is he looking for scales?_ Oliver wondered, remaining silent.

The creature looked back up at Oliver’s face, tilting his head.

“What?” Oliver said, breathless.

He brought one hand back to push the hair around his neck back, revealing a row of slits in his skin; gills.

Oliver was once again rendered speechless. _Amazing_. He shook his head, turning it so the creature could see the side of his neck properly.

The creature shot up from the water, almost making Oliver fall off his rock in surprise, but he was steadied by two hands around his head, holding him steady.

And face-to-face.

“Oh my God,” Oliver breathed, blood now rushing through his veins in a cold mixture of fear and excitement.

The merman’s lips were parted slightly, as if very concerned and speechless. His hands traveled down Oliver’s neck, feeling the smooth skin there without a trace of gills and scales. Oliver shuddered. His touch was warm, despite being in the water, fingertips gentle and soft instead of pruny and rough.

Oliver couldn’t move, but he ached to touch the creature like this, to also feel his skin and the film of blues and greens that dusted along his neck and shoulders. To run his fingers through that dark hair, silky and smooth, abnormally textured. The thoughts were outlandish and incredibly naive but despite how irrational the urges were, Oliver couldn’t help but return the gesture anyway.

He only brought his hand up and grazed the creature’s wrist, which had fallen to Oliver’s shoulder, but it made him flinch away like he’d been burned, the water sloshing around them.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver blurted, hands automatically stretching out, involuntarily seeking out the closeness of his body again. He retracted his arms when he realized what he’d done, folding his hands in his lap.

Oliver was only happy that the merman was still here, not swimming away again. 

They stared at each other, silent. The top half of the creature’s body was still uncovered from the water, bare chest and stomach like a human’s, even with a belly button. His front was lean, hard and firm, truly the body of a swimmer, without a flicker of the colorful specs over his skin. Oliver chuckled after a while, relaxing finally and looking back into the crystal blue pool of the reef.

“Can you even understand me?” Oliver murmured, tilting his head to the side, gauging the man’s reaction, which remained curiously blank.

He slipped under the water again, swimming around to the other side of the reef and reappearing. Oliver smiled, wondering what the creature was thinking.

He ducked again, swimming in a circle before resurfacing, hands on Oliver’s rock, close to his feet folded underneath him.

“Can I help you?” Oliver grinned, amused.

Then the creature gave a small smile of it’s own, just lifting a corner of his lips up in what could have probably been a smirk. It look Oliver’s breath away.

He darted under the water like a bullet, zooming away from the reef and before Oliver could blink, the merman shot himself completely out of the water, showing off a long, thick tail that shimmered glorious greens and blues at his waist, filtering out to pure silver to his illustrious tail that smacked the surface of the water as he reentered it.

“Holy shit,” Oliver laughed.

The merman’s head popped back up, looking to Oliver as if to observe his reaction to the jump. Like it wasn’t anything short of amazing.

Oliver was still giggling when their eyes met again, and it only spurred the creature to perform more tricks, jumping, swimming intricately around him, each time resurfacing to gauge Oliver’s reaction and continuing on, as if seeking validation.

This went on for hours maybe, Oliver watching the merman perform and praising him. His stomach growling informed him that it was time to stop… whatever this was, and find some food.

“I need to go,” Oliver said, slipping his legs out from under him, dipping them into the water.

The creature floated silently near him, watching Oliver slip into the water.

He was at Oliver’s side in an instant, bobbing next to him, but not touching him. Oliver inclined his head to the sandy beach.

“I have to go back, need food.”

Oliver waited to see if the man would understand him, but was once again greeted with silent curiosity.

“Bye.” Oliver smiled, turning and swimming slowly to shore.

Oliver sensed the creature following, making subtle splashes around him. At one point Oliver nearly shrieked as he felt the merman swim underneath him once or twice, probably making sure he stayed afloat.

When the water became too shallow, the merman backed off, hovering at the drop off point while Oliver stepped onto land.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” Oliver pointed to the reef, wondering why he was bothering telling the creature anything.

The merman did a back flip and didn’t emerge from the water again. Oliver stood and watched the water where he was, and wondered what would happen next.


	47. Oliver is Connor's bodyguard

It should be illegal to look that good in a suit.

Connor keeps stealing glances at Oliver while he glides around the floor, performing in a group dance and constantly switching out the ladies in his embrace. None of them can hold a candle to Oliver, who stands silently in a corner, stance wide, hands behind his back, eyes darting everywhere; constantly vigilant.

Connor nearly steps on his partner’s toe when Oliver’s eyes find his, before shyly looking away.

“… are you listening to me?”

Connor looks down at the woman in his arms, it’s Michaela, one of Connor’s closest friends and business partner. He hadn’t realized he had been dancing with her, honestly. Oliver in a tux was very distracting.

“Sorry,” Connor mumbled, but his eyes strayed from Michaela’s, looking around the room.

She sighed. “You know we’re safe here. The peace treaty went much better than any of us expected.”

“Yeah it was…” Connor started, then swallowed, looking back to Michaela. “To be honest I was nervous. Thought for sure they’d mow us down before we even set foot on their land.”

Michaela rolled her eyes in humor. “You worry too much.”

“Or not enough,” Connor smiled wryly, spinning Michaela around and out before pulling her back in.

“Isn’t that what you have Oliver for?” Her tone turned teasing near the end, grinning at Connor.

Technically, yes. Ever since Connor’s father died, leaving the business to his only son, Connor had become a liability and thus required some form of protection. His first body guard, William, hadn’t proved much use… in fact it was thanks in part to him, that Oliver became Connor’s new bodyguard.

The day he met Oliver was quite unlike anything Connor had experienced in his young life.

Connor had been sitting in the back seat of his Mercedes, waiting outside a building for a meeting to end and someone to meet him, when suddenly the driver’s side door opened, and William had been socked in the face, yanked from his seat behind the wheel, and replaced by another man, who immediately turned the car on and sped down the road.

Connor had ducked down as soon as he realized the door had been opened, and waited until the man had sped away before reaching for his gun, pulling the safety off, and lurching himself up to wrap one arm around the invader’s neck while shoving the tip of his gun against his head.

“Who the hell are you?” Connor had spat, his finger tight on the trigger.

The man started, catching Connor’s eyes in the rear view mirror, and… laughed.

“Christ, I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” He kept his hands on the wheel, peddle still to the floor as he effortlessly swerved through lanes of traffic.

Connor only let a second pass of confused silence.

“Who sent you?”

This time the man turned his head, Connor’s gun dragging along his skin and nearly hitting his eye. “No one ‘sent me’,” he looked back to the road. “I’m… kind of in a situation. You’re involved now.”

“ _What?_ ”

* * *

Turned out Oliver was a field agent working for a spy organization in Napal. His mission had been compromised and, long story short, he had been on the run.

After he’d found safety and someone else in the company to finish his mission, Oliver quit to work for Connor. Why he took Connor’s offer to be his new personal bodyguard over being a _spy_ , Connor still couldn’t figure out… though he had one idea that he liked to delude himself into believing.

Connor was infatuated with Oliver. He never thought twice about him at first, but Oliver was always so attentive, always so present and efficient, it was near impossible to ignore him. Especially the way Oliver would say Connor’s name, low and cool. The way his stare would linger a fraction of a second longer than it needed to, how he’d ask if there was anything else he could do before retiring each night and leaving Connor to bed or anything else personal.

It was all of this and in Oliver’s never wavering dedication and service to Connor and the Walsh business name that cemented Connor’s aching attraction to his new bodyguard… not to mention how _adorable_ the older man was.

Yet… despite all this evidence that Oliver may reciprocate Connor’s untold affections, the man remained utterly professional and poised.

Maybe it was from experience as a spy (which was fucking hot, in Connor’s opinion), but Oliver was difficult to read. It didn’t help that this was the first in a long, long time that Connor genuinely liked another human being, a man, and not just for the sex potential.

So at the end of the day, Connor never got up the courage to act on anything. It was like Oliver turned him inside out, unable to summon that old Walsh charm and flirt his way to success. The sensation of “butterflies in your stomach” was something Connor always hated hearing, it was so stupid, so childish… so accurate; he’d never understood the meaning until he felt himself falling for Oliver.

* * *

“Hey.” Connor approached Oliver, hands stuffed in his expensive slacks. The night was ending, people were exiting the hall and shaking hands for the last time.

Oliver nodded, pushing away from the wall. “Shall I get the car?”

“Um, actually, do you want a drink? Still plenty of champagne to go around.”

Oliver’s head quirked slightly, a small grin gracing his lips. “I shouldn’t drink while working.”

Connor rolled his head, smirking. “Yeah but we’re on friendly territory now, no need to ready yourself for a fight.”

Oliver’s eyes softened, that insecure, shy look that Connor always gawked at reemerging. “Thanks, Connor, but I’m good.”

Connor brought his lips in, looking to the floor and nodding.

* * *

The ride home was silent. Connor stared out the window, hand propping up his chin while he mentally browsed through scenarios of what would happen if he were to tell Oliver how gorgeous he was when he smiled, or if he took his hand and pulled Oliver in for a kiss, what kind of reaction Oliver would have. He thought about Oliver responding exuberantly, as they pulled up in Connor’s driveway. While he stepped out of the vehicle, walking up to his front door, Connor daydreamed about Oliver pushing him against the wall of his lavish bedroom and ravishing him without a care, moaning and chanting Connor’s name in delirious bliss.

As Connor slowly stripped through the foyer and into the kitchen, letting his jacket and tie fall to the floor behind him, he fantasized Oliver shoving him onto the bed, tearing off his button down shirt and latching his mouth onto Connor’s neck, palming him through his pants at the same time, causing Connor to arch off the bed and grip Oliver’s strong arms.

He made himself a drink at the bar, turning and leaning against it as Oliver finally appeared through the doorway, smiling in humor as he caught Connor.

“Haven’t you had enough?”

Connor grinned back playfully, tipping his glass back and downing the rest of his drink in one go.

“Drink with me, Oliver.” Connor knew Oliver would do it if he made it a command rather than a request.

Oliver sighed, but it sounded forced, like he was pretending this was the opposite of what he wanted.

“Well, twist my arm…” he teased, taking his own jacket off and draping it over a chair while Connor prepared him an Old Fashioned.

He took the drink, eyes flicking up to Connor’s as their fingers brushed. Connor slouched against the bar, facing Oliver, casually sipping at his own drink, which he had replenished.

“I was thinking about the first time we met.”

Oliver looked lost for a second before sniggering, setting his glass down. “Oh yeah, I remember. You had a terrible guard.”

Connor chuckled too, nodding. “It was fate. What would you have done in that situation?”

Oliver looked curious, latching onto Connor’s first statement, but let it slide.

“I wouldn’t have let it become a situation. I’d notice if someone was coming to the car. Also, my fucking door would be locked.”

Connor nearly inhaled his drink, laughing with ease and watching Oliver’s smile grow to show teeth.

A silence fell between them. Connor drummed his fingers against the glass while Oliver played with the rim of his.

“When was the last time you went on a date, Ollie?”

At the nic name, Oliver’s head snapped up, bewildered.

“Uh, w-why the sudden interest?”

Connor shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal, while his heart began to hammer in his chest. “Just curious… I know it must be boring, being around me nearly 24/7.”

Oliver shook his head, giving a short laugh. “Exactly. I don’t have time to date.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Oliver sighed, rubbing a hand behind his neck. “Nah, I think I forgot how to anyway, it’s been so long…”

“You should take a vacation,” Connor heard himself say. “Go get laid, or something.”

Oliver scoffed. “I don’t want to ‘get laid’.” He straightened up, finishing his drink.

Connor waited for Oliver to go on, or explain, but he said nothing, shimmying off the stool.

“Thanks for the drink-”

“Wait.” Connor reached forward, grabbing Oliver’s arm.

They both stared at each other expectantly, waiting for the other to say something. Seconds passed and Connor’s hand was still attached to Oliver’s forearm, preventing him from leaving. Oliver looked down at Connor’s hold and back up, an interested yet nervous expression crossing his features.

“Something you want?”

Connor licked his lips and swallowed. The alcohol in his veins encouraging him to ease his grip, letting his fingers slide down Oliver’s arm to take his hand instead, trapping his fingers in-between Oliver’s.

Their eyes never left each other as Connor’s hand moved, or when Oliver gasped softly, curling his fingers to hold Connor’s in his palm.

“What do _you_ want, Ollie?” Connor spoke quietly, carefully, his nerves singing.

Oliver shook his head slowly. “I’m not…” But Connor was leaning in and so was he, finishing his answer in a whisper, “… sure.”

Their lips met softly, a gentle caress that was the exact opposite of any daydream Connor had about this moment, yet it still got his heart racing like a teenager in love.

Connor had just enough time to part his lips and taste Oliver’s breath before Oliver pulled back. Connor opened his eyes, biting back a whine of displeasure at the separation but then feeling himself get hard at the way Oliver’s eyes fluttered open, soft and darker than ever.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Oliver looked down at their hands, still entwined. “I just… haven’t done that in a long time.”

Connor watched him silently for a moment. “Because of work?”

Oliver shrugged, appearing the most vulnerable Connor had ever seen him. “Mostly…”

“I like you,” Connor said seriously, ducking to catch Oliver’s eyes. “And that’s weird… for me. I really like you and… don’t want to regret this tomorrow.”

Oliver gave a small smile. “You wont… but let’s see if you want to do it again, when you’re sober.”

Connor rolled his eyes, hearing Oliver chuckle softly.

“I’m not drunk enough to not know what I want.”

“We’ll see,” Oliver said, half humorously, half in self deprecation.

“Wanna kiss me one more time, just in case?” Connor narrowed his brows, smirking with a rush of confidence he hadn’t felt in a while.

Oliver laughed again and Connor pulled him forward to taste it.


	48. Connor can't stop staring at Oliver

Oliver turned his head away from the TV, feeling that odd itch when you know you’re being stared at. His gaze landed on Connor’s eyes, fixed on him. Oliver raised an eyebrow and Connor’s eyes crinkled, smiling.

“What?”

Connor shrugged, not looking away. Oliver shook his head with a snigger, focusing on the TV again.

They went out for dinner later on, it was a double date. Wes and Meggy sitting down at their table, smiles wide and unguarded, happy to be here. During the chat about how school was going, the duo across from Oliver chatting amicably together, Oliver felt Connor quiet down.

Oliver snuck a sideways peek, catching Connor’s gaze at once– soft, sleepy yet lively. His eyes were dark due to the low lighting, but they still sparkled, dancing around Oliver’s face, constantly landing on his lips.

Oliver grinned, leaning into Connor’s space, whispering in his ear.

“What?”

Connor just kissed his jaw.

It happened again, a couple days later, walking around the town. They walked away from an ice cream vendor with free samples in hand, licking their tiny spoons slowly, savoring the flavor. Then they switched cups, trying the other’s choice. Salted caramel versus cookies ‘n cream.

“What are you staring at?” Oliver asked, catching Connor in the act. But he didn’t look away, ashamed or embarrassed at getting caught. He never did.

Connor answered like it was obvious. “You.”

“What’s there to see?” Oliver responded automatically, looking forward again and swallowing. He hadn’t meant to let his old insecurity slip through, but old habits died hard.

His left hand was suddenly warmer, as Connor wrapped his right around it, their fingers threading together.

“Let’s see…” Connor started, taking a deep inhale, puffing his chest out. Oliver chuckled.

“Your hair, your eyes, your nose, your ears, your teeth and your lips and how they stretch when you smile…” Connor stopped them under a tree, red and yellow leaves falling from it. “Or the way they move when you kiss me… like everything’s going to be okay.”

Oliver’s body relaxed, watching Connor curiously, lovingly. He leaned in for a kiss and Oliver happily obliged, he knew Connor’s signs, his movements and body language as well as his own. Yet somehow, he still couldn’t understand the way Connor would sometimes look at him. Like Oliver would disappear and he had to get his fix in. Take in as much of Oliver as Connor could, visually. Never forget the way he smiled, blinked, yawned, or scratched his ear. Small details that shouldn’t be interesting or significant, but to Connor, it was like… everything. Like Oliver was everything.

“What good did I do to deserve you?” Connor whispered against Oliver’s lips.

Oliver smiled and Connor kissed him again, light as a butterfly, to feel that smile on his lips. To drink in the warmth radiating off Oliver, get high from it and fall in love all over again.


	49. Connor is a Lyft driver

As a Lyft driver Connor has seen a lot of weird things happen in his car. Drunk people were a given, sometimes impromptu make-out sessions (which Connor used to just ignore but has since shut down. He’s not a cabbie, he has a little more self respect!), and more than a few times he’s had to endure the stench of pot as people shared a joint (and politely decline, rolling down all the windows).

Needless to say his car has suffered, and so has Connor’s mental health. But it paid well and when he wasn’t being tickled or pulling over to let a drunk girl vomit (“ _Oh hell no, not in my car lady!_ ”), it was generally fun and interesting, meeting a wide variety of people.

Then one night a sob story stumbled into his Prius. Not unusual, but this one made Connor genuinely concerned, because the guy was silent at first, stifling his sniffles before it soon turned into choked sobs, his body shaking and hiding his face behind his hands, cussing at himself.

Connor kept taking peeks at him in his rear view mirror. He shouldn’t intrude, but something ached inside him for this stranger, this older man who was ashamed to be crying in the backseat of someone else’s car.

“I’m sorry,” he wept, wiping his nose and groaning at himself. “Please ignore me.”

“What’s wrong?” Connor slowed to a stop at a red light, giving the man his attention in the mirror.

He shook his head, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Nothing, I was just dumped… he took me out to a restaurant just to tell me, like it’d soften the blow,” he laughed bitterly, his smile fake and sad.

The light turned green and Connor focused on the road again. He didn’t want to interject, he shouldn’t. Connor’s place as a driver was behind the wheel and in his own head. It was unprofessional to get into his client’s personal business, but as Connor listened to the sobs dying down into sniffles, he felt more empathetic than annoyed.

“We’d only been dating for a month but god, look at me,” the guy was muttering, like he was talking to himself. “He even said… in the beginning, that he typically doesn’t ‘go for Asians’ but decided to give me a shot.”

“What an asshole,” Connor interjected.

Silence filled the car, even the stranger’s sniffles stopped.

“Well your sympathy is appreciated, but honestly I’m used to it.”

Unprompted rage stirred in Connor’s belly. He couldn’t stand it when people said shit like “I’m used to it.” What happened in their lives to allow such toxic thoughts become reality?

“God I’m so dumb,” he continued, muttering softly, looking out the window. “I really thought it would work out-”

“What’s your name?” Connor interrupted, flicking his eyes up into the rear view mirror, catching the man’s gaze.

“… Oliver.”

“I’m Connor. Nice to meet'cha.”

Oliver was speechless again. “I know your name, it was on the app when I requested a ride-”

“Don’t be used to it,” Connor said, his eyes constantly flicking between the road and the mirror. “Not to be creepy but honestly you’re so gorgeous, that guy is an idiot.”

After a pregnant pause, Oliver finally relaxed, chuckling softly and wiping his face clean. He tilted his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

And then Connor asks if Oliver has a dire need to go home and would offer to get coffee “or something,” Oliver gets suspicious, probably joking if Connor is a serial killer (and if it would be an extra charge). And Connor would throw him that wicked smirk of his and probably make Oliver all kinds of nervous, but would reassure him he just wants to take him for a late night drink.

And while they’re at the cafe, Connor gets a good look at Oliver and instantly develops a crush. Oliver really is gorgeous, his eyes are still red and puffy, but they’re brown and warm and open… like you could ask Oliver anything and he’d tell you exactly how he was feeling.

Connor swallows hard when he realizes he’s losing focus, literally getting lost in Oliver’s eyes. He’d never met a person so kind and honest, embarrassed about breaking down in front of a stranger, but willing and happy to have someone to talk about it with. Connor was more than willing to listen to Oliver talk.. he could talk to him all day. He had a lovely voice.

“What?” Oliver asks during a lull of back and forth coffee sipping.

Connor cracks a grin. “You look much better when you’re smiling.”

Oliver’s lips curl up impossibly wide, revealing laugh lines, turning his head to hide the smile, which makes Connor’s heart do a back flip.

“Well this isn’t where I expected my night to end.”

“Who says it has to end?” Connor hints, laying it on a little strong, but going along with it. No one ever said Connor Walsh was the type to let perfect opportunities slip away.

And when Oliver’s wide smile morphed into something suggestive, Connor thought maybe this was one opportunity he’d hold on to.


	50. The Ugly Truth AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hadn't need to see the film to understand what's going on.

Oliver came home to find Connor already in his apartment, raiding his fridge. Oliver nearly jumped a foot in the air before remembering he had given him a spare key.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver meant to ask that with more venom, but he was tired, frustrated, tonight couldn’t get any worse. He yanked at his tie and pulled his suit jacket off, walking into the kitchen where Connor had seemingly made himself at home, nonplussed that he was invading someone else’s home.

“Making myself dinner…” He dropped a slice of bread on his ham and cheese sandwich to drive the point home.

Instead of arguing, Oliver pulled out a chair from the island, sitting in it heavily and sighing. He saw a beer next to Connor.

“Hand me one of those, will ya?”

Connor did, his face curious. “Date went that well, huh?”

Oliver raised his eyebrows sarcastically. This wasn’t the first time the doctor and him had gone out, in fact things had been going very well (despite Connor’s crazy ideas on what constituted flirting). But the more Oliver hung out with the doctor, the more he found him… boring. Unoriginal dates, work talk, and flowers. Lot’s of flowers. Oliver hated getting flowers.

But all Oliver said was, “he’s a terrible kisser.”

Connor snorted and Oliver took a swig from his beer to hide his smile. He’d already let his guard slip enough times in front of Connor, let the handsome man get into his head accidentally, or intentionally, Oliver wasn’t sure which would be more appropriate. He shouldn’t pine after a guy like Connor, who’d already vaguely told Oliver (at his insistence) about the men who broke his heart so now he doesn’t believe in relationships, doesn’t believe in love.

Oliver was the opposite. Not only did he believe in love, he craved it to his core. He watched people walking down the street, smiling, hand-in-hand and wanted that. Wanted laughter, happiness, and someone in his life to share that with, commitment. Connor wasn’t that. He’d never be that, and Oliver needed to convince himself constantly as to why; Connor would destroy him.

“What about the sex?” Connor asked, taking a bite of his sandwich, leaning forward against the bar, facing Oliver.

Oliver shook his head. “We didn’t even finish. No chemistry.”

Connor made an exaggerated noise of disapproval, probably meant to elicit a laugh but Oliver just stared up at him, annoyed.

“Can you not?”

Connor shrugged, taking another bite, speaking around the food in his mouth.

“Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

Both of Oliver’s eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

Connor, who still appeared completely blasé, straightened up. “Well you said you hadn’t had sex in a ‘long time,’ maybe you’re out of practice.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m perfectly capable of performing well in the bedroom.”

Connor laughed out loud, dropping his food. Oliver flushed, irritated and embarrassed.

“See, it’s when you talk like that– I just can’t take you seriously.” Connor giggled, mirth still shining in his eyes. 

“Well, you’ll just have to take my word for it.” Oliver spoke sharply, sitting up and staring at Connor seriously.

Silence passed between them as they watched each other. Oliver, against better judgement, studied Connor’s face, his gelled hair, dark eyes, sharp nose and perfectly maintained scruff, wondering- not for the first time- how those features would look relaxed, vulnerable, softer. He continued down Connor’s neck, he had a dress shirt on with the first few buttons open, revealing sharp collar bones, teasing a bare, hair-free chest as Connor slouched forward again, leaning on his elbows and catching Oliver’s gaze. 

Oliver swallowed, Connor’s eyes looked… interested, like he was mulling something over.

“How did he kiss, then?”

Oliver licked his lips. “Too slow, then too fast… and,” Oliver looked down, avoiding Connor’s piercing gaze. “Just… no passion.”

“And you think it was all him?”

_This again?_

“I’m a great kisser.” Oliver snapped his head up, staring Connor down, who- was it his imagination?- was breathing a little harder.

Connor hummed, pushing the plate with the half eaten sandwich away with a loud scrap against the counter. His eyes never left Oliver’s. “How would you know?”

Was his mouth getting dry? Oliver licked his lips again, he didn’t miss how Connor’s eyes flicked down to his tongue at that moment.

“I’ve been told…” Oliver trailed off, his voice becoming quiet.

Oliver’s pulse pounded in his ears, he wondered if Connor could hear it, could sense what Oliver was thinking, what he wanted to do.

“I can be the judge of that,” Connor said softly after a stretch of silence. 

Another beat passed before Oliver made up his mind, standing up and getting a hand around the back of Connor’s neck to pull him in for a rough kiss.

Connor nearly fell over the island, moving his hands to grab fistfuls of Oliver’s button-down and pull him as far as the counter digging into his stomach could allow.

The position was awkward, but Oliver moved his lips frantically with Connor’s, keeping up with his eager mouth as he pressed harder and shifted constantly, each time allowing Oliver a millisecond of air to take a sharp breath or moan deliriously as Connor slipped a tongue past his.

Something electric shot down Oliver’s spine, straight to his groin when Connor’s jaw dropped and he got deep into his mouth, pushing Oliver back, fighting with him, and conceding when Oliver responded by slipping his other hand into Connor’s hair and getting a fistful of it. Connor moaned loudly, almost whining, and it made Oliver pull Connor forward harder, nearly forgetting there was an obstruction between them. He wanted Connor touching him, needed Connor pressing against him, to feel his body melded with his.

“Connor,” Oliver gasped, the sound muffled and lost in Connor’s mouth.

Grunting, lips barely disconnecting sloppily, Oliver sensed Connor moving and opened his eyes to see him get a knee on the island’s surface, then another.

Oliver stepped back, their lips brushing, foreheads pressed together, just as Connor swung his legs around to dangle over the edge of the counter in front of Oliver, knocking things over, inconsequential really, in his wake.

As soon as Connor’s feet touched the floor, Oliver was back on him, hands around his face and pushing Connor so his back connected with the edge of the counter. He felt Connor’s hands slide up his stomach and chest, pressing hard, leaving a burning sensation where his fingers grazed, even over his shirt, before wrapping his arms around Oliver’s neck.

Oliver couldn’t remember the last time someone kissed him like this, the last time _he_ kissed like this, raw and needy. Connor kissed Oliver like a man starving: desperate and depraved, but still enjoying the taste, the feeling, the satisfaction. And all Oliver could do was keep up, working his mouth with Connor’s, giving back what he was taking, spurred on by the noises Connor made.

Slipping his hands down Connor’s neck, Oliver fondled down the young man’s sides, pressing their fronts together, before reaching around Connor’s hips and, feeling daring, grabbed a hold of his ass.

Connor groaned, rolling his hips against Oliver’s, who encouraged him, pulling him in with his fingers wickedly massaging the soft orbs underneath Connor’s slacks. Oliver met the next thrust, both men choking back on their pleasure as Oliver realized he was hard, and so was Connor.

All at once their movements ceased. Oliver took a wobbling step back, wiping his mouth where he felt drool. Connor wasn’t even trying to compose himself. He was panting loudly, lips still parted and very red, leaning back heavily against the counter.

“Holy shit…” Connor breathed, a satisfied grin beginning to form on his lips. “You’re definitely better than… what’s his name?”

“Who?” Oliver gasped, his voice high.

Connor puffed out a quiet laugh, looking to the floor.

“I should, ah…” Connor looked back up, eyes blown wide and dark. It made Oliver’s fingers itch to reach out and pull him back in, get his hands and mouth even further on Connor’s body, explore and memorize everything underneath that teasing shirt and tent in his pants.

“I should go,” Connor managed to finish. “We have that meeting at 8am tomorrow…”

“Yeah,” Oliver nodded. He had managed to get his breathing back under control, but his nerves were still singing, still aching to touch and pull and wander over Connor’s body.

Connor finally began to move, tripping over himself as he made his way to the door, grabbing his own jacket and hastily shoving his feet into his shoes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Connor spoke again, back to the door, facing Oliver, who’d followed him.

“Yeah,” Oliver repeated, unsure why he was unable to speak.

Connor nodded, turning and fumbling with the door knob before mumbling a goodbye and closing the door behind him.

Oliver stood in silence, staring at the door Connor just walked out of. He blinked and finally was able to come down from the high, though the lingering sensation of Connor’s lips on his, his tongue in his mouth, began making itself known in a wave of sexual frustration.

Just as Oliver groaned, slouching against the wall, he heard a knock at his door.

Heart hammering in his chest, Oliver grabbed the handle and swung the door open to Connor, an animated, fierce look in his eyes.

“Actually,” he started, his grin looked broken. “I don’t think that was a very accurate read, I might need to try again, maybe with more–”

Oliver didn’t let him finish. He grabbed Connor’s jacket and pulled him willingly, back into his apartment.


	51. Meet and fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you’re singing in our dorm shower, and i just want to let you know that you have a wonderful voice, also oops i’m naked.”

It was probably too late for a shower, but Connor needed one. Bad. He’d been so caught up with studies and his stupid internship and that _dumb god-awful_ thesis paper that he’d nearly starved himself, let alone remembered what proper hygiene was. Finals week was true hell.

With a towel and clean clothes balled up in his arms, toiletries swinging in a bag dangling from his fingers, Connor’s socked feet pad down the quiet hallway toward the community shower his dorm building presented. With one last look at his phone (2am, _ugh_ ), and a thought of _well, at least no one will be in to bother me_ , Connor pushed open the door to the showers.

That thought was swiftly crushed as he walked through a cloud of steam and the noise of a running shower head assaulted his senses. Connor barely suppressed the urge to groan, opting instead for an eye roll as he chose a locker to store his belongings and dirty clothes. 

_Whatever, as least they’ll be out before I’m finished._

Connor had just stepped out of his sweatpants when, amongst the loud echo of water pelting on tile, he heard a low voice break through, quiet at first, like silk, before steadily raising in volume.

“… _but no money could have bought even a piece of his pride, there might have been a sea of people I don’t know, because.._.”

Connor’s ear’s strained to listen. Without really thinking about it (and stumbling out of his last sock), his feet carried him to the wide stall where the gorgeous voice emitted from.

“… _it’s a pleasure to meet you, ya look like one incredible creature wanna treat you fine lets dance and grind, get so funk-inflicted it’s a crime.._.”

“Holy shit,” Connor murmured to himself, stepping around a corner to find a man’s naked back to him, hands in his hair scrubbing shampoo into. He’d stopped singing to duck his head under the spray.

Connor watched unashamedly, transfixed, as water and soap suds ran along the man’s body, from his wide shoulders down a muscled back, to his pert ass (that looked way too grabable), continuing down hard thighs and corded calves. Connor felt his tongue dart out, licking his lips unconsciously. 

Connor recognized the song the gorgeous man was singing, breathing the next lyric under his breath with him,

_“… you’re divine you’re sublime and well you blow my mind…”_

Unable to take much more of this, Connor moved forward, and to the side, claiming a spot right next to the other man, who hollered in surprised when Connor arrived.

“Shit,” the guy gasped, a hand flying to his heart. “I thought I was– you scared the fuck out of me.”

“Sorry.” Connor grinned, turning the handle on the wall and stepping aside to let the water heat up. The guy’s face didn’t quite match his body, cute and soft. But that didn’t deter Connor.

He also hadn’t missed the split second flash of the man looking at his penis, or how he suddenly flushed and fiddled with his loofah. Connor looked down too, only slightly taken aback that he was half hard. Instead of bringing attention to it, or apologizing, Connor spoke up again.

“Nice voice.”

The man looked over at him, decidedly keeping eye contact. He laughed nervously. “Of course you heard that… sorry, thought I was alone.”

“Don’t apologize.” Connor tested his shower spray and found it hot enough to finally step under, moaning contently as he moved his fingers through days of unwashed hair.

Connor felt eyes on him and peeked over, noticing with delight as the guy looked away quickly, grabbing a bar of soap and lathering up the loofah. He smirked.

“Can I borrow your shampoo? I forgot mine.”

He really had. All Connor’s toiletries had been left by the lockers, too fascinated by that seductive voice, this man who was practically sex on legs, drawing him in like a siren. And those lyrics painted a picture that was a little too graphic in Connor’s mind.

As the guy nodded, clumsily handing over the bottle to Connor, he spoke up again.

“My name’s Connor.”

“O-Oliver,” the gorgeous man answered, peeking over at Connor one more time, smiling a tiny smile that made Connor’s brain come to a momentary halt.

“Oliver,” Connor tested the name on his tongue and found that he liked it. “I’ve never met someone else who likes The Cat Empire.”

Oliver’s eyes grew large, his smile turning wide and excitable. Connor’s hands froze, fingers tangled in his soapy hair. _Holy shit, he’s adorable._

“Me either! Aren’t they amazing?”

Oliver was giving Connor his full attention now, the awkwardness leaving all at once. Connor grinned again, closing his eyes to wash out the shampoo.

“Definitely. Felix is such a stud, huh?”

Oliver groaned in approval and Connor tried to focus on cracks in the tile to keep his boner from getting any bigger.

“So hot, ugh. And that voice?”

“I think you could give him a run for his money.” Connor flashed that smirk again, reaching for Oliver’s conditioner without asking.

That nervous grin was back, along with a chuckle. Connor started on his hair again, wondering where this would lead and if he should make a move now or ask Oliver out… he’d never been in a situation before where he saw the guy naked before introducing himself.

Well, better make this moment count.

As he asked for Oliver’s soap, Connor looked down, taking his own peek at Oliver and nearly dropping the slippery bar at what he saw. 

Oliver had a semi of his own, hanging thick and heavy and _fuck_ , so pretty. Connor swallowed and looked back up, finding Oliver staring right at him.

They watched each other, the water beating down on them forgotten. Connor’s jaw was slack, looking into Oliver’s eyes, begging for permission… and receiving it as Oliver stepped forward, one hand lifting questioningly and touching Connor’s hip bone.

Without hesitation, Connor lunged forward, grabbing Oliver by the back of the neck and pulling him in for a wet kiss that seared.

Muffled noises of moans and kisses and skin on skin slapping joined the reverberating showers in the room. As the water went cold, and Oliver had Connor against the wall, Connor had a fleeting thought, post orgasm, how maybe this week had all been worth it.

**[The song Oliver is singing](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DQtFxo4mpiKg&t=OTdkYmEyY2Q3OTc2NTU2ODVjOWIyMzE5OGQ3NWExZDc0OGE5ZjRmZixtMUMyekJkWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ArllmRk4O4afvPpNBlkhUxA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fvaleriianz.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166048530828%2Fdid-you-post-that-college-au-list-for-coliver&m=1) **


	52. Zombie Apocalypse AU

Oliver woke with a jolt, the sounds of smashing and shouting echoing inside the walls of the abandoned building. The dark blue light coming in through the broken windows revealed night was about to fall.

Jumping to his feet and grabbing his semi-automatic, Oliver pushed away from the grimy wall he’d been sleeping against, and ran outside. He felt Wes on his heels as he pushed open the heavy door, readying himself for another fight (although his neck was still sore from this morning).

Oliver’s sprint slowed to a jog as he approached the scene just outside their hideout. Instead of a hoard of undead, Oliver’s group surrounded a man in a semi-circle, their hands up in surrender, placating and backing up slowly. The man, whom Oliver had never seen before, had a glock in his hands, pointing it up and swinging it between each person.

The man could have been a zombie, with how much blood he was covered in, clothes torn and stained beyond recognition, but the crazed, panicked fire in his eyes suggested otherwise.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” He shouted, knees bent, pacing to the side like he was deciding between fight or flight.

“Please calm down,” Michaela’s voice was soft and placid, her hands outstretched, palms down. “We’re not infected but more will come if we’re not quiet.”

The stranger wasn’t having it. He shook his head so fast it nearly blurred.

“N-no! Get out of my way or I’ll shoot you all!”

The sound of the safety being released made the group unerringly hesitate, some stepping aside, giving up on trying to reason with him.

“He’s injured,” Oliver head Wes whisper in his ear. Oliver shot him a look then trained his eyes harder on the stranger, trying to find what damage Wes could have possibly seen under all that mess.

The man was limping. His knee stuck out wrong, yet he was still standing on it. Oliver knew they had to heal him, he wouldn’t last another day like that, especially alone.

“Distract him,” Oliver said quietly to Wes, who nodded and headed to join the group as Oliver snuck around them, stepping lightly on the cracked pavement.

“Hey, listen,” Wes started, sticking his own hand gun down the back of his pants. The frenzied stranger looked up at him, breathing hard through his mouth, gun still pointed. “We want to help you. Are you alone?”

The man went quiet, eyes widening. Oliver stopped short, nearly right behind the guy. He wondered if he didn’t need to go along with his plan all along, maybe Wes could talk some sense into–

“Help me??” The man shrieked, causing everyone to jump. “No one can help me! My whole family’s _dead_ , I need to get out of here–”

The man fell forward, landing on the ground face first with a crumpled _thump_ , revealing Oliver standing where he’d been, lowing his rifle.

“Jesus, Oliver!” Asher broke the silence that had fallen. “The guy was just about to leave, you didn’t have to kill him.”

* * *

Connor groaned. In the pitch black behind his eyelids his throbbing headache was making everything red. Pulses of red, beating on the back of his skull like someone trying to hammer their way out.

“You awake?”

Connor’s eyes fluttered open, squinting in the candle-lit darkness and finding a man sitting cross-legged next to him on the floor.

“… The hell are you?”

The man smiled, relaxing. Connor stared, dumbstruck. He hadn’t seen a smile like that in a very long time.

“Oliver, nice to meet you.” He turned to reach behind him, bringing back a canteen and handing it to Connor.

Connor shot up, and instantly regretted it as his head spun painfully, making him nauseous. He grabbed at the side of his skull as if to keep it attached to his neck, it felt as if it’d roll off.

“Careful…” Oliver stretched an arm out, offering to help Connor sit up, who reluctantly allowed it, feeling too weak to deny assistance. Oliver’s hand on his back was warm, gentle, and patient as he let Connor lean heavily on it while he found his balance. Without saying anything, Connor grabbed the container, not sparing Oliver a glance as he tipped it back to take a sip before pausing, sending Oliver a suspicious look.

Oliver smiled again, a little humorously. “It’s water.”

He only hesitated a moment longer before giving in, gulping down the lukewarm water fast, making himself cough as he took the container back, inhaling sharply.

“Tastes like shit.”

“It’s the best we can do.”

“Why does my head feel like it’s being torn apart?” Connor took another sip, finally looking down at himself and noting he had a clean(ish) sweat shirt on and his left leg was tightly secured in a makeshift splint.

He continued staring at his leg while Oliver spoke, a nervous edge in his voice.

“Sorry… I kind of knocked you out. You were scaring my friends.”

Connor looked back at Oliver, who was studying his dirty hands in his lap.

“Seriously?”

“I didn’t know what else to do…” Oliver looked back at him. Connor studied his face, dotted in scratches, dirt, and serious 5 O'clock shadow. He wore circular, wire-rimmed glassed that had a crack in one lens. His hair was everywhere and matted, like it hadn’t seen a comb in years, maybe it hadn’t.

“But you…” Connor trailed off, nodding to his leg.

Oliver took a long breath. “Yeah. Wes noticed you were limping. We won’t make you stay,” Oliver interrupted himself, sitting up straighter. “But you’re much safer with us, especially with that leg now…”

Connor continued to stare, so long that Oliver averted his eyes again, watching the dusty concrete floor. Connor couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a human face, a real face. With scars and colored cheeks and kindness. He’d been so vicious before, there was hardly a shred of humanity left in the world, so to see a band of survivors, healthy and standing, was beyond Connor’s comprehension.

“Wes?”

“Oh,” Oliver looked behind him again. Connor’s eye’s followed, staring into darkness. The candle between him and Oliver was the only light source in the large room.

“He’s outside, keeping watch– we take turns.”

Connor nodded, taking one last sip out of the canteen before finally setting it down. The _tink_ of aluminum against the hard floor echoing in the room as their voices had.

“My name is Connor.”

That smile was back, and this time Connor found himself mimicking it.

“Connor. You’re safe now.”

Connor tried to snort, but it came out more like a cough. “Unless you hit me again.”

Oliver’s smile turned into a grin, chuckling to himself. “I’m sorry about that again, I’m not usually so rash.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Connor cut in, looking down at himself again and tugging on the sweatshirt. He noticed for the first time Oliver was only wearing a t-shirt. He wondered if Oliver had taken it off for him.

“After all, I’m here now, right?”


	53. "It was you the whole time?"

“… You alright, Connor?”

Connor lifted his head from the cool surface of the desk, squinting at Oliver behind his sunglasses. Realization dawned on Oliver’s face, leveling Connor with a look of concern.

“Hangover, huh?”

“Yeah,” Connor coughed out, his tone reflecting, _no shit, genius_ , as he took the shades and pushed them up into his hairline.

Seeing Oliver in the fluorescent light, standing over him, biting his lip, took Connor back to the dream he’d woken from this morning.

Hovering over… someone, a faceless man. Surrounded by tight heat, hands over his skin, caressing every line and curve as he moved in and out. Moaning loudly, unashamedly, at the way the man said his name, moaned it, worshiped it. Connor swore he could still feel strong legs wrapped around his middle as he thrust deeper and deeper, harder, faster…

Connor shook his head, looking away. Why was seeing Oliver bringing back that vivid dream?

After a beat, Oliver shrugged his bag off and took the seat next to Connor. They fell into a weird silence, not awkward, not comfortable… just weird. Connor and Oliver were friends in the sense of sharing classes and picking each other as project partners because Connor liked how Oliver could keep up with him and Oliver liked that Connor actually did his fair share of the work load.

“It was a great party though, last night,” Oliver spoke again, quieting down as the professor entered the room.

Connor mumbled a thanks, thinking now that it was a little stupid to host a party on a Sunday… but it was Halloween, and Connor loved any excuse to throw a party and get shit faced. His apartment was usually the go-to place for tomfoolery, as Connor rented out a large two-bedroom all to himself, exploiting his father’s cash to the best of it’s ability while he attended college a hundred miles away.

Though Connor couldn’t remember most of the night, he figured it was a rousing success from all the people who had come to him this morning, along with waking up to sleeping college students shamelessly taking up his couch and spare bedroom.

Through lecture, Connor felt Oliver stealing glances at him and finally turned to meet his gaze, the room only slightly spinning now.

Oliver looked down at his notes and Connor frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Oliver quickly answered, picking up his pencil and twirling it.

The following night, Connor had another sex dream, but it was painted with more details, like posters on the walls and lights flickering and music blaring that indicated it took place during the Halloween party. He was all over some guy, whispering in his ear something dirty, taking his hand and pulling him away from the pong table, stumbling over the living room rug that had been pushed around, before reaching his bedroom.

Then everything happened in flashes: Connor shutting the door, hands everywhere, clothes off, messy kisses, play wrestling in the bed before Connor finally got his way and landed on top of the mystery man. Foreplay that seemed to last hours, teasing and taunting and too much touching, before finally Connor felt himself _inside_ , moving, fucking, crying out like no one could hear him.

Connor awoke the next morning painfully sober and confused as all hell, wondering if he’d slept with someone at his party. No one was saying anything, no one was joking about “Another strike for Walsh!” like people usually did when he fucked around. And he really didn’t want to ask anyone if they’d seen him go into his room with a guy in tow.

It shouldn’t be a problem, Connor was very aware of how much he got around, of the whispers and gossip in the halls, he didn’t care… but he’d never actually questioned if he had sex or not. If the other guy was blacked out too, fine, great, whatever. But a nagging, guilty part of Connor wondered about… consent. And it was freaking him out.

A few days later found Connor sitting alone in the student union lounge, nibbling on a cookie and watching the fire flicker under the impressive mantle. He felt the couch dip beside him and looked up to see Oliver smiling shyly at him.

“Hey.”

“Hi…” Connor sat up a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

A silence fell between them. They seemed to be having a lot of quiet moments, Connor noticed. Not that they were uncomfortable, he’d always liked Oliver’s presence, even if they weren’t talking or working… like times in the library together, reading silently, looking up when the other starting scribbling notes into the book or clicking keys on their laptop.

Connor always wondered if he and Oliver were indeed friends… they never really hung out outside of school, except a few times in cafes as a meet-up point for weekend study sessions, or very recently, when Connor nervously asked Oliver to come to his Halloween party and wondering why his heart did a back flip when Oliver smiled and said yes.

“Listen, um…” Oliver broke Connor’s train of thought, causing the student to look back over at him.

“There’s something that’s been bothering me, but I’m not sure how to say it.”

Connor turned to face Oliver, tucking his legs up to cross them on the couch cushion, giving Oliver his undivided attention.

“Um,” Oliver licked his lips and Connor caught himself following the motion of Oliver’s tongue. “How drunk were you, Sunday night?”

Connor blinked, looking to the side. “Uh, shitfaced, basically. I’m usually better at knowing my limits but I actually blacked out…” Connor’s hand returned to the back of his neck, knotting his fingers in his hair.

Oliver’s brows shot up, curious, concerned, shocked.

“So, you don’t remember much?”

Connor shrugged, playing with the hem of sweater now while looking around the room as he tried to recall, like he had been these past couple days. “Not since we started playing beer pong.”

Oliver brought his lips into a thin line, Connor raised an eyebrow at that.

“What?”

Oliver blew out a breath, looking around like he was checking for listening ears.

“I should tell you this, and I’m really sorry I didn’t before– I wasn’t sure what to do or say… and you were just so chill–”

“Oliver,” Connor interrupted, touching a hand to Oliver’s arm. “What happened?”

Oliver swallowed, looking at Connor’s hand on his arm to his eyes, worried and curious.

“We… we had sex,” Oliver whispered _sex_ like it was a dirty thing, immediately breaking eye contact and his neck heating up. “And you were blacked out, oh my God.” Oliver covered his eyes with a hand, sliding it down his face in guilt.

All Connor could feel though was relief. Stunned, embarrassed relief.

“It was you the whole time?”

It was Oliver’s turn to looked stunned.

“… Is that all you have to say?”

Connor shook his head. “No. Oh my God, thank you so much for telling me. I-I– for a while I thought it was a recurring dream. I kept seeing myself with this guy and…” _And surrounded by heat, by arms, by kisses down my face, body, legs, cock. Surrounded by someone taking care of me with drunken coordination, loose grips and laughter at ourselves as we fumbled around, like we’d done this a million times before so it’s okay…_

“Do… you regret it?” Connor’s brows furled together. He hadn’t considered how Oliver might feel, or how much Oliver even remembered. Maybe he just woke up to Connor and assumed the worst; that he slept with the campus slut.

This time Oliver shook his head, eyes wide. “But, I thought you did, since you weren’t talking to me…”

Connor smiled a little manically. “You weren’t talking to me…” Connor had a thought, bringing his hand back which he realized was still resting on Oliver’s arm. “Why did you leave?”

“Huh?”

Connor folded his hands in his lap. “When I woke up, I was alone… you left.”

“Oh…” The blush that had been forming on Oliver’s neck grew up to his cheeks, making them a cute, dusty pink. “Sorry. I was just… nervous. I didn’t think you’d like what you saw… I guess.”

Connor’s lips parted silently. He scooted closer, catching Oliver’s eyes, his attention, holding it.

“Are you kidding?” Connor bit back a giddy smile. “If I can take away anything from what I remember that night, you fucking rocked my world, or something cheesy like that.”

Oliver laughed and Connor’s smile broke through at last. Putting a face to that dream stranger was such a relief, and it was all Oliver. This guy, this kind-of friend whom Connor had caught himself staring at across the halls, in class, day dreaming about in bed late at night but never acting on it. Never approaching Oliver like he was any other guy that Connor could easily get, knew he could easily have, because he didn’t want Oliver like that. Well, he did… he wanted Oliver in a lot of ways, on him, under him, against the wall, on the teacher’s desk… but something stopped Connor from asking him every single time. He didn’t know how to approach the guy unless it was something necessary, like studying or borrowing a pencil, or asking for help on his homework.

“It also helps that I like you.” Connor bit his lip as soon as he said it. That was it; he liked Oliver. He liked him a lot. Connor felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner, though his friends and family have always told him he was dense and allergic to feelings.

That last part might be true. But if feelings were the light sensation in his chest when Oliver smiled at him like that, then maybe feelings weren’t such a bad thing.


	54. Connor forgets their anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired from a fic in the KH fandom

Connor was lounging on the couch, flipping through options on Netflix, when his phone rang.

Noticing the call was from Oliver, Connor grinned to himself, hitting the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey, you.” Oliver practically purred.

Connor felt a bolt of arousal shoot through his body at the insinuation in Oliver’s tone.

“Hey…” Connor dropped his voice a few octaves, his grin turning sharp. If Oliver was finally conceding to Connor’s fantasy of phone sex while Oliver was at work, Connor wondered what he did right to get Oliver in the mood. Maybe it was the breakfast this morning… Connor could admit he was getting lazy in the mornings and hardly found time to make breakfast anymore, let alone Oliver’s favorite: sunny side-up eggs, bacon and pancakes. But he’d managed it this morning. If that was enough to put Oliver in a giving mood…

“What are you up to?” Oliver murmured on the other end. Connor felt his dick twitch in his boxers, the only clothing he had on, along with a t-shirt. He had off Sundays.

“Not much, waiting for you to come home.” Connor sat up a little, letting his free hand trail down his chest lightly.

“Mm… that’s good. I’ll be out of work an hour early.”

_Oh, so… not phone sex?_

“Yeah?” Connor didn’t get his confusion seep into his tone, continuing to play along.

Oliver hummed again. Connor wracked his brain, wondering what Oliver had planned.

“So you’ll be there when I get back?”

“Always.” Connor felt himself smile into the word.

There was a pause where Connor heard Oliver huff once, a quiet laugh. He could picture Oliver sitting at his desk, a giant smile on his face, hunched over himself so no one could see he was on his phone. The thought made Connor’s smile grow, licking his lips.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Happy anniversary, lover.”

At once the smile fell from Connor’s face, his stomach dropping to his feet with a cold _plop_.

Hanging up, Connor stumbled from the couch, running to the calendar that hung in their kitchen and checked today’s date.

September 22nd, the day Connor arrived at Oliver’s doorstep with flowers and take-out, begging to give him one more chance after screwing up during their first few weeks of off-and-on dating. The day Oliver begrudgingly let Connor back into his apartment, the same place he had thrown Connor from after discovering he’d cheated on Oliver… even though they hadn’t promised to be exclusive. Because they never communicated, until that day, September 22nd. 

They had sat on opposite ends of the table, eating their meals, talking about them, _really_ talking. Connor promising everything, saying he’d try, he’d even go slow. He’d be a good boyfriend, he wanted Oliver, and he wanted to try, if Oliver would let him.

Then it was going out, taking a long, needed walk. More talking, laughing, easy banter that turned flirty. Stopping for frozen yogurt, and then later, drinks, which ended with Oliver pressing Connor against a wall outside the bar, making out like a couple horny teenagers who couldn’t stop touching each other.

Continuing at Oliver’s apartment, rushed preparation and hard, fast fucking that made Connor see white with the intensity of his orgasm. Waking up next to Oliver, who was curled around him, cracking an eye open, and laughing softly to himself.

“ _So much for going slow, huh?”_

September 22nd, when Oliver let Connor’s no good, non-deserving ass back into his place, his home, his heart, and giving him that one more chance. That all happened exactly one year ago, today.

“Shit.” Connor grabbed his hair, panic racing through his body, making his blood rush cold and fast.

After a moment of freaking out, Connor stilled. Time?

Connor looked to the microwave. 2:30, Oliver said he’d be an hour early, which gave Connor an hour and a half to prepare for Oliver’s arrival.

An _hour_ and a _half_. Too late for a reservation at an upscale restaurant, too late for tickets to anything… Connor rushed to his laptop, booting it up and running through possibilities in his head while he waited (and cussing at how slow it was being, _stupid piece of shit!_ )

Skimming several menu’s of 5-star restaurants that allowed pick-up, Connor finally settled on one with a name he couldn’t pronounce, called them up, and placed the order.

“No,” Connor tried to calm his breathing. “an hour is way too long. I’ll throw in an extra $50 if you can get it done under 40 minutes.”

Briefly mourning for his checking account, Connor hung up, nodding to himself and ran to the shower to wash the day of laziness away.

Constantly checking the time, Connor sprinted to his car, trying not to speed too much as he first stopped at the nearest Wal-Mart, clearing the entire flower display of its red roses and nearly the entire Home Living area of it’s unscented white candles.

Back in the car, Connor’s next stop was the liquor store, quickly asking for a recommendation of semi-dry red wine (because it was Oliver’s favorite), and buying the most expensive bottle.

The last stop was the restaurant, picking up the bags and slamming the extra 50 on the counter, as promised, and raced back home.

Carefully, but quickly, setting everything on the counter, Connor sped cleaned the apartment (which didn’t take long at all, thanks to Oliver’s meticulous and boarder line obsessive behavior to keep things neat). And then proceeded on the wholesale annihilation of several dozen roses, ripping the petals off in angry handfuls in a trail that led to the bedroom, letting some fall on the bedspread as well. It was a dark day for the roses, but Connor couldn’t let the battle concern him. He knew Oliver was a sap for this cheesy, romantic stuff and wouldn’t second guess himself.

Then came the candles. Connor placed them around the apartment meticulously, more on the coffee table, island, and bedroom than anywhere else. Places he and Oliver would be and be able to see without the lights on.

With 15 minutes to go (and actually screaming through gritted teeth), Connor took out the food he’d ordered, set it all up on serving plates and shoved them into the oven, turning it on low to keep it warm and to get the apartment smelling like steak sauce and garlic potatoes. After shoving all the evidence into the trash can (pulling out old trash and stomping down on it to hide the evidence of his last minute efforts), Connor finally looked down at himself.

Casual or suit? In a groan of uncertain misery, Connor ran to the closet and pulled on his best suit. Because he knew Oliver liked him in suits, and maybe it’d be fun to take off. Maybe Connor could do a strip tease, if Oliver wanted.

Connor was just starting to get his breathing under control when he realized none of the candles were lit.

Cussing loudly, Connor yanked open their junk drawer and pulled out Oliver’s long-reach lighter and quickly danced around the apartment, lighting each candle and only managing to burn himself a few times.

With one final glance at his phone, sweat trickling down his neck, Connor yanked open his sock drawer and pulled out a sample bottle of Dolce & Gabbana, spritzing his wrists once, rubbing them together, and tapping them on his neck.

Taking deep breaths through his nose and out his mouth, Connor stood at the entrance to their bedroom just as he heard Oliver’s presence at the door, the jangle of keys and the turn of the handle.

Collecting himself, Connor relaxed his features into his sauciest smirk, catching Oliver’s eyes across the room.

With a smile wide enough to cause lines, Oliver looked around, shutting the door distractedly behind him.

“Smells good in here.” He looked up to Connor, walking slowly on the trail of petals and shedding his clothes along the way, to where Connor was leaning against the frame.

Connor surrounded Oliver in a loose embrace, accepting Oliver’s kiss and pressing back with a little more force.

“Mm… you smell better, though.” Oliver nearly growled, his eyes sparkling.

Connor’s smirk relaxed into a smile, nuzzling his way into Oliver’s neck and whispering in his ear.

“Happy anniversary, Ollie.”

“Happy anniversary…” Oliver pulled back to slip his fingers around Connor’s tie. “Do you want your present now, or later?”

Connor groaned as Oliver pressed his body along his, nipping at the spot below Connor’s ear.

“You know how impatient I am…”

Oliver chuckled, turning them around and pulling Connor into the bedroom by his tie.

“That I do.”

Connor never forgot another anniversary after that.


	55. Detention AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I. LOVE. OVER. CONFIDENT. TEENAGE. CONNOR.

Connor slouched in his chair, butt nearly hanging off the seat, boots nudging against the chair in front of him. Detentions sucked, but at least they were better than in-school suspensions. At least in detention, where Mrs. Johnson mostly presided, he wasn’t kept such an obnoxiously close eye on… and he could finish up a whole school day. In-school suspensions sometimes forced you to miss classes and even if Connor was a reckless trouble maker, he knew where his priorities lied.

When it wasn’t getting almost the entire male student body on their knees for him.

Mrs. Johnson had her nose in a book, facing the small collection of students who silently sat in their desks but completely ignoring them. Connor contemplated sneaking out, he could be quiet when he needed to, and the teacher seemed so engrossed in her book she probably wouldn’t be lifting her head for a while.

Connor popped his knuckles, wondering how long he could ditch this for, when the door to the classroom slowly opened and a new kid walked in, nervously scanning the room before landing his eyes on the floor.

“Oliver?” The teacher questioned, bored and slightly annoyed.

The kid, Oliver, nodded, sputtering.

“S-sorry I’m late, I forgot it was today—“

“Yeah sure, take a seat and be quiet.” She snapped, getting back to her book.

Connor watched him out of the corner of his eye. _Oliver, Oliver, Oliver_ … he obviously recognized him, they were in the same grade, shared a few classes. Oliver, the nerd who kept his head down, never spoke, and was always alone. What did he do to get in here?

Oliver tripped over his own shoes in his haste to sit down and the handful of kids snickered at him, Connor included. _What a dork… cute_.

Oliver chose a seat close to Connor, close enough to catch his eye when Oliver glanced over at Connor before looking away shyly, pulling a textbook out of his bag.

Connor licked his teeth, contemplating, continuing to stare unabashedly at Oliver. Something new to look at was always fun, and studying Oliver was a much more interesting way to pass the time.

His coke bottle glasses constantly slipped down his nose as Oliver took notes, pushing them back up with his whole hand while he read on. Connor found it surprisingly adorable. He’d never really noticed Oliver… he was always just a wall flower, an extra body in a room, a good boy who followed the rules and never brought attention to himself.

Connor wondered if he could manage to change Oliver’s mind. Slip up, act out, break the rules… although Oliver apparently already had, hadn’t he?

With that thought, Connor shuffled to a normal sitting position, quietly tearing a piece of paper from his notebook (keeping one eye on Mrs. Johnson) and scribbling down a note.

Looking over to his left, Connor folded up the paper into a football shape and flicked it two desks away, hitting Oliver on the side of his head. He grinned at Oliver’s reaction, a startle that made him drop his pen.

Oliver looked down at the note then back up, eyes locking with Connor’s.

“Open it,” Connor mouthed, amusement still shining in his eyes.

The amusement was flattened, however, when instead Oliver rolled his eyes, and focused back on his textbook, ignoring Connor and his note.

Connor looked forward again, bewildered. He couldn’t remember the last time someone ignored him, let alone rolled their eyes at him.

No wait, a lot of people liked rolling their eyes at him. Mostly Michaela.

“Hey,” Connor hissed. “Hey!”

“Quiet,” came a bored command from the front.

Connor grumbled. Oliver hadn’t even twitched, though now a small smirk ghosted his lips.

No matter. Connor was a fighter. He’d get Oliver’s attention on him sooner or later.

Two hours later Connor thought he was going crazy. Detention was finally over and the new kid hadn’t glanced his way since the failed note.

They were gathering up their things, headed out the door when Connor finally got the chance to speak to Oliver.

“Hey.” He jogged up to fall in step with the bespectacled boy. “Oliver, right?”

Oliver inhaled deeply, as if he found Connor to be a burden to talk to. That kind of irritated Connor.

“Yeah,” he answered, looking at Connor finally. “You’re Connor?”

Connor’s lips twitched with an unconscious smirk. So Oliver knew who he was.

“I am Connor. Where you headed off to? Wanna grab dinner?”

Oliver threw him a confused look.

“I’m actually headed home, my mom is waiting in the parking lot.”

Connor felt himself deflate a little, but didn’t let it show.

“Oh, well, maybe next time?”

Oliver looked at him as if Connor had a second head.

“Stop it.”

That stopped Connor in his tracks. He watched Oliver continue on ahead, pushing open the double doors and out of sight.

Connor waited a few seconds, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and walked leisurely out of school, making his way to his own car and taking off. He caught his reflection in the rearview mirror and tried to bite down his smirk. He liked a challenge.

The next week’s detention found Oliver on time, early, in fact. Connor walked in to see him already seated and diligently doing his homework.

Connor didn’t try hiding his smirk now. He’d tried talking to Oliver again during school during the past week, all to similar denials… but Oliver was cracking, Connor could feel it. 

_“You look really good today, Oliver, did you get a haircut?” Spoken in a rush while following Oliver out of class. Oliver face scrunched like he was holding back a smile and looked away._

Or in gym.

_“I can’t stop staring at your thighs in those shorts, sorry I never noticed, they’re great.”_

_“Oh my God.” He heard Oliver whisper to himself, a flush spreading over his cheeks._

Or when Oliver turned in his test early, as usual, collecting his stuff to leave and passing Connor on his way out.

_“Sexy and smart, damn,” Connor muttered under his breath._

With a natural swagger and unrelenting persistence, Connor slipped off his backpack, plopping it down on the floor and fell into the desk right next to Oliver.

Oliver didn’t jump, for once, probably expecting Connor to sit next to him today.

“Back again, huh?” Connor whispered, getting his lips entirely too close to Oliver’s ear. “Not exactly the date I wanted but I’ll take it.”

Oliver’s head twitched, like he wanted to turn and face Connor, but Connor hadn’t backed away, remaining inches from Oliver’s face.

“Do you mind?”

Connor grinned. “Not at all.” He pulled back. “Oh, could you hold on to this for a sec?”

Oliver looked over, hand automatically outstretched, palm up, as Connor hovered his closed fist over it, before opening his hand and taking Oliver’s, fingers locking around the other boy.

Finally, Connor got a reaction. Oliver sputtered, turning red and shaking his hand. Connor didn’t let go.

Until Mrs. Johnson walked into the room with a handful of other students, commanding them all to sit and be quiet for the next 2 hours.

Connor reluctantly released Oliver’s hand, focusing entirely on his desk while he listened to Oliver fret in his seat.

Two hours came and went, and Connor got up with Oliver, stopping him just outside the double doors.

“Hey, why won’t you talk to me?”

Oliver looked to the floor, then around them, as if checking for listening ears.

“I talk to you.”

“No you don’t.” Connor was smiling, but his eyes were pleading. 

“You don’t talk to me either…” Oliver said, a bit more softly, looking at the floor again.

Connor stepped closer, trying to look Oliver in the eyes.

“Well I am now.”

Oliver took a steadying inhale, lifting his head to meet Connor’s gaze.

“I know who you are, Connor. You just have sex with everyone in school. Tick them off like it’s a score.” Oliver brought his hand up to point at each of his five fingers.

“I know your game, and for some reason it looks like you’ve chosen me next and well—“ Oliver broke eye contact, a redness spreading up his neck. “I’m not having it.”

Connor hummed. His reputation proceeded him, sure. Cool. But he was still confident Oliver was caving. _Eager_ too, even.

“I’ll have it.”

Oliver peeked back over at Connor, eyes darting down as Connor licked his lips.

“You’ll want it, too.”

He leaned forward, lips parted, touching a finger to Oliver’s jaw, smirking devilishly at the small gasp Oliver gave.

“See you next week.” Connor purred, turning and walking away. Leaving Oliver against the wall, breathing hard like Connor had kissed him.


	56. Oliver wants Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another HS AU.

The only reason Oliver was able to keep his nerves in check was the fact that he was a graduating senior and he was going to a college out of state and he would never have to see any of his classmates or teachers ever again. It didn’t matter that he fucked up his lines in the school play’s rendition of _The Music Man_ , what mattered is Oliver found the courage to finally audition for a spot in the show and got it (the stuttering mayor).

Oliver also planned to cuss out one of his teachers on the last day of school, but was having second thoughts…

As he was about asking Connor Walsh to come over to his house tonight while his parent’s weren’t home.

Connor was everything Oliver wasn’t; cool, collected, confident, and sexy as all hell. The air would literally leave Oliver’s lungs whenever Connor passed him in the hall or happened to catch his eye in classes. He was so effortlessly charming but also blatantly smug about it. Connor would smirk like he had a secret, raise his eyebrows sarcastically because he had nothing else to say to you, and spit the rudest, most painfully accurate insults when he was in a verbal throwdown. 

He was also gay as fuck and wore the metaphorical “slut” sign on his back with pride. 

Oliver was always torn about his silly crush on Connor. On one hand, Connor was obviously hot, and probably an expert in the bedroom, if the rumors were true. But on the other hand, the idea of sleeping with the notorious school man-whore wasn’t exactly a dream. And of course, there was the lingering thought that Connor would just never go for it… for Oliver.

But then again, this is what senior year is all about, letting go, conquering your fears, stepping up to the plate… at least that’s what Wes said while he and Oliver were creating their bucket lists day one of 12th grade.

As the days to graduation became less and less, Oliver began to wonder if he was ready for this. Or if he even wanted Connor.

Well, he did, but the thought of _just_ having sex with Connor made Oliver feel a little worthless… although he’d had sex before and enjoyed it, Oliver was more of a relationship guy, not a quick fuck kind. Fucking Connor would do one of two things: get Connor out of Oliver’s system once and for all, or break his heart when he realizes he loves the guy, or something. Oliver was always a sap.

Now or never.

“Hey.” Oliver ran up to Connor after school, who was making his way to his car.

Connor turned and Oliver swallowed the spit in his mouth. That leather jacket fit him like a glove.

“Hey, Oliver, right?”

Oliver blinked, then composed himself. It wasn’t unusual for Connor to know his name, they’ve shared classes throughout the years.

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed, smiling a little maniacally. “I-I was wondering…” he licked his lips, looking down at the pavement. The sound of kids talking loudly and school bus air brakes nearly drowned out Oliver’s thoughts.

“What are you doing tonight?” Oliver spat out, still focusing on Connor’s shoes.

“What?”

Oliver swallowed and looked up. Connor was smiling. It wasn’t that sinister smirk he sported often, but a sort of… crooked grin. It went well with his curious eyes, which flicked up and down Oliver’s front.

“Tonight…” Oliver started, licking his dry lips. “M-My parents are out of town… wanna come over?” 

This time Connor was taken aback, his jaw dropping slightly, before he composed himself, laughing a little.

“You’ve hardly spoken to me for years and, what you want me to just come over and… fool around while your mom and dad are away?”

Oliver flinched away, feeling a burn crawl up his neck and ears.

“You don’t talk to me either,” Oliver retorted weakly, looking away again.

Connor went silent, watching Oliver. He sighed, hiking his back back further on his shoulders before speaking again.

“Well, I just figured you didn’t like me.”

Oliver’s head snapped up, staring at Connor, who now had a hand behind his neck, averting his eyes.

“Seriously?” Oliver wanted to laugh. Connor looked at him, frustrated and cautious. 

Connor shrugged, finally, dropping his hand and sticking both into his jacket pockets. 

“I don’t know. Everyone is always on my fucking business and so chatty, even the teachers, always asking if I’m okay and the straights wanting to drag me into the showers to experiment…” Connor’s eyes rolled. “Anyway…”

“Wait,” Oliver’s brows furled. “do you think I’m straight?”

Connor went still, eyes blown wide. “You’re not?”

Oliver shook his head. 

“Oh… I- I could never figure it out, I’ve never seen you with a guy and I didn’t wanna _ask_ you because that’s just… too obvious,” Connor mumbled the last part, looking to the ground as Oliver had.

Hope and excitement began bubbling up inside Oliver, encouraging him to take a step closer. 

Connor looked up again as Oliver neared. He opened his mouth then closed it, mulling over something in his head.

“So, what time do you want me over?”

Oliver grinned triumphantly. “Whenever. Now.”

Connor chuckled, getting his mojo back. “Can I try something first, just to see…?”

Before Oliver could ask what Connor wanted to try, his classmate had pulled him forward, one hand grabbing his sweater, and the other around the back of his neck, planting a kiss right on his mouth.


	57. Crazy Rich Asians AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written immediately after I saw the film. Like, I was taking voice-to-text notes on the walk home.

So, Connor and Oliver both live in NYC. Connor is an English professor at NYU, Oliver is a freelance computer repair guy, and he’s very good at it. They’ve been dating for a year, and it’s gotten pretty serious. Oliver has met Connor’s mom who lives in Queens although Connor hasn’t met any of Oliver’s family.

Connor has spoken to Oliver’s sister, who lives in London with her husband, over some Skype calls, and he knows vaguely about his extended family from all across Asia (Oliver chocking it up to how his family loves to travel).

But that’s all it’s been, very vague. Oliver doesn’t talk much about his parents or what they do. He sometimes goes on a spiel about his cousins and the antics they get up to, but usually cuts it short, interrupting himself or changing the subject all together.

He also doesn’t have any social media presence, which is of course odd in this day in age, but Oliver always shrugged it off as too invasive and annoying when he had so much work to do. Connor guessed he could buy that.

Then one day, Oliver asked Connor if he’d like to go on a “little trip” with him.

“So, my best friend is getting married and he asked me to be his best man.”

“Mm hm…” Connor nodded, stealing another bite out of Oliver’s fruit tart.

“… It’s in my home city, Quezon.” Oliver studied Connor for any familiarity.

“In the Philippines?” At Oliver’s nod, Connor swallowed his bite. “That’s where your immediate family lives, right?”

Oliver nodded again, taking his fork and smacking Connor’s away before he took the last bite.

“My family will be at the wedding, I’d like for you to come and see them… and also get a taste of where I grew up.”

That got Connor’s attention. “This mysterious family that I never hear about?”

Oliver smiled sheepishly. “There’s just not much to say. My mom is a very strict, traditional woman.”

Connor hummed. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

“But I want her to meet you,” Oliver spoke seriously, catching Connor’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t I want to show you off to my whole family?” He grinned.

Connor made a sound like, _yeah right_. “I hope that’s an exaggeration. I need baby steps, you know.”

Oliver did know. He was Connor’s first relationship, his first real boyfriend. They’d had a rocky start, mending many tears and bruises but always came out alright in the end. Connor was still sensitive in that area but Oliver was eager to keep this going, this rapport, this love.

In the end Connor said yes, as Oliver knew he would. And he was even excited about the trip, Connor had never been outside the United States, unless you counted Canada.

It falters when they board first class on the plane.

“This is really weird,” Connor admits, almost rudely shooing the flight attendant out of their private ( _oh geez)_ room with two comfy chairs that fold down into beds.

Oliver throws something out how his uncle owns a share of the airline and gets a few perks from it. No big deal. Connor raises a skeptical eyebrow, sipping on his champagne.

“What else should I know about this little family of yours, before you throw me to the wolves?”

Then Oliver _eh’s_ and _you know’s_ into a small explanation of his other relatives, his cousin Jasmine who’s a notable fashion designer, coming from China. And his second brother, Tristan, who’s the CEO of a business in Thailand and it’s there that Connor stops him, waving his hand.

“Wait, I thought you were American? Your name is Hampton…”

Oliver gives another timid smile.

“It’s actually a name my employer gave me when I first came to America looking for work. I guess it sorta… stuck.” Oliver looked away nervously. “My family’s name is Santos.” He paused, as if looking for recognition from Connor, who continued to stare blankly.

Connor doesn’t recognize the name Oliver _Santos_ because he doesn’t know who that is.

But everyone in Southeast and East Asia know who the Santos family is, and they know Oliver is coming home for the first time in years, and they know he’s bringing not only some white American, but a guy to boot.

“So…” Connor trails off, his drink finished. “You’re rich.”

Oliver looks off to the side, smiling ambiguously. “We’re… comfortable.”

“That’s what a rich person would say.” Connor chuckles. “It’s whatever. But why haven’t you ever told me?”

Connor finds out why Oliver never told him, as soon as he’s thrown into the thick of it all.

Oliver’s mother lives in a straight up mansion, complete with guards at the gates—GATES—a sprawling yard with a pool that looked more like a lake, a green house, guest house, and botanical gardens, just to name a few. Connor couldn’t stop staring, ogling everything in sight.

Then meeting with the family was just a whirlwind of introductions, shaky hello’s and handshakes that Connor felt himself losing focus on. He wasn’t normally this intimidated, ever. He knew how to deal with all kinds of people and situations, not to mention the bratty college students he taught. But nothing could have prepared him for _this_. This, walking straight into something he’d only knew was real because of what TMZ and whatever pop culture media outlets sourced him with. Connor never thought he’d be walking on marble or drinking out of a glass with gold around the rim. Real gold.

Of course meeting Oliver’s mother, clad in a gorgeous dress Connor was sure cost more than his car, was the catalyst. She hated him, in the coolest, most collected of ways. Even mentioned something to Oliver about carrying on the family name with a son, right in front of Connor, strongly implying he should date a woman.

Connor had to excuse himself to scream silently into his own fist in a lavish bathroom that was bigger than his Brooklyn apartment.

The days went on, the bachelor party came and Connor was thrown around Oliver’s old friends and family alike, doing his best to stay friendly and smile the entire time. Truth be told, he was enjoying himself, even though he felt totally out of his element. At least everyone else seemed to welcome him to the family.

 _Seemed_ was the magic word.

An old friend from college helpfully provided Connor with the knowledge that Oliver dated a girl just a couple years ago, and it had been serious. Serious enough that Oliver nearly married her, until he decided out of the blue to head to America. The guy even provided a detail that she was one of the guests invited to the party and of course her and Oliver were still friends.

Connor stumbled back to his hotel room in an uncertain daze… knowing he and Oliver loved each other and there was obviously nothing going on between him and this _chick_. And then he saw his hotel room torn apart, a dead fish on his bed with a message written on his mirror in what looked like blood:

“ _Gold digger_ ” and next to it, “ _Faggot_.”

Connor’d been called a faggot plenty in his life, but never a fucking gold digger.

He chose to not tell Oliver about it, instead not letting the immature bullying get to him by giving himself a little pep talk.

He knew who he was back in the States. Sure he wasn’t rich or very dignified, and yeah he had a dick so what? Oliver didn’t let it bother him that he was dating a guy, that he brought a guy to meet his entire family. That just meant something… strong between them. That despite everything Oliver loved him enough to introduce him to this life of his… although Connor supposed he understood why he was hiding it this whole time. Connor was definitely overwhelmed. He needed a drink, or eleven.

Connor was a fighter. He couldn’t—wouldn’t let this interruption change his mind or influence how he viewed Oliver. He stilled loved him, Oliver was still the only one who ever cared about him and saved him from the shit his life was turning into. Connor wasn’t ready to let go just because of some family drama.

So he did what he knew best: turning up the charm. He could act and weasel his way into any good graces, and he was fucking good at it. Connor had a natural charisma that got him out of (and into) anything. He had a reputation on campus as the youngest professor they’d ever employed. Connor came from nothing and clawed his way up. Sure he wan’t where he wanted to be in life yet, but he was working on it, and he needed to man the fuck up if he wanted the same respect from Oliver’s family.

Namely, his mother.

And to Connor’s shock, it didn’t work.


	58. Halloween

Connor smiled politely at the stranger’s confused look, noticing humorously how the man brought the bowl of candy he was holding away from Connor.

“I’m not trick-or-Treating,” Connor grinned as he spoke. He turned to gesture to his car parked on the side of the road.

“My car broke down, was on my way to a party.” Connor explained away his costume, aviator glasses in his hair and fighter pilot uniform comfortable under a leather jacket. “Can I use your phone?”

The guy raised an arm, leaning against the doorframe. Connor subtly checked out the stranger… alluring even dressed in a Where’s Waldo get-up.

“What’s wrong with your phone?”

Connor shrugged. “Lost it.” At the man’s skeptical glance Connor laughed again. “C’mon, you’re the third house I’ve tried.” _And also the hottest,_ Connor thought to himself.

After a moment of consideration, the guy relented with a “fine,” turning to let Connor walk past him into his house.

“I’m Connor, by the way.”

“Oliver,” the man responded, shutting the door and setting the jack-o-lantern shaped bowl down and walking past Connor to lead him to the kitchen.

“Nice place,” Connor offered conversationally, walking slowly.

“Thanks…” Oliver picked up a wireless phone from the wall and handed it to Connor… who noticed deliberately that he wasn’t wearing a ring on his left hand.

“Oh shit, you have a landline?” Connor didn’t know where his excitement came from, it’d been a long time since he’d seen something besides a cell phone.

He caught Oliver’s eye roll as he took the device. “Do you not?”

“Why would I? I still rent…” Connor mumbled to himself, taking a seat at an island in the kitchen and fishing his wallet out.

After hanging up the phone with AAA, Connor relaxed, leaning onto the counter and accepting the beer Oliver handed him.

“How long til someone picks you up?”

“About an hour, busy night, Halloween.”

Oliver hummed, leaning on the island across from Connor. He didn’t seem bothered, but looked a little uncomfortable.

“Why’d you still have the candy out?” Connor tried, taking a pull from his bottle. It was nearing 10pm, everyone’s porch light was out, including Oliver’s.

Oliver shrugged. “Thought you were a trick-or-treater.”

“Can I still have some candy?”

Oliver chuckled, getting up to fetch the bowl.

They sat on the couch, Oliver unpausing a horror movie and turning the volume down, chatting with Connor and keeping the bowl of candy between them.

“What’s your costume?” Oliver finally asked, a hard candy clicking against his teeth.

Connor looked over at him, scandalized.

“Tom Cruise… from _Top Gun_?”

“Oh… never seen it.”

Connor made a noise of disbelief.

“Shame on you. One of his best, right after _A Few Good Men_.”

“’You can’t handle the truth’?”

Connor grinned. “That’s it.”

Oliver smiled softly, looking back to the TV.

Connor watched him, Oliver, out of the corner of his eye. Oliver was sweet, easy to talk to, easy on the eyes… Connor hadn’t eaten all day and the beers were making him just a tad too comfortable in this stranger’s house.

“Thanks again for letting me use your phone.”

“No problem,” Oliver glanced over, tilting his head slightly.

Connor wet his lips, relaxing a bit more into the comfy couch.

“And also wait for my ride, I really appreciate it.”

Oliver shrugged like it was no big deal, taking a sip from his beer.

Connor tapped his fingers along his bottle. He was used to picking guys up at bars… talking to them in class or at least getting them to follow him out of class. He hadn’t expected some cute guy wearing a white and red striped shirt to answer the door, let alone be nice enough to let Connor into his home and drink his alcohol.

He was obviously out of his element, but Connor wanted to strike anyway, or at least leave an impression, so Oliver didn’t forget about him.

“What’s with the costume?”

Oliver looked down at himself and laughed.

“Forgot I was even wearing this…” He took the beanie off and ruffled his short hair. Connor liked the way his long fingers ruffled it up.

“It’s just for fun, the kids like it.”

“Are the glasses real?” Connor sat up, using his question as an excuse to scoot a little closer.

Oliver huffed an amused breath. “Yeah, they’re mine.”

“It’s cute,” Connor jumped right in, knowing someone would be here soon if he needed to bail… though he had a good feeling about Oliver. “Shirt’s a little small though.”

Oliver stared at him with a cocked brow and Connor felt his breath catch at the look.

After an agonizing couple seconds of silence, Oliver spoke, his low voice unintentionally charming.

“So?”

Connor smirked. “Nothing, it looks good on you. Shows off the guns.”

Oliver scoffed, looking back to the TV, both hardly paying attention anymore, and back to Connor, a dubious expression flashing in Oliver’s eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?”

Connor’s smirk broke out into a smile wide enough to make his eyes squint. He loved getting caught.

“Is it working?”

Oliver pushed his frames up subconsciously, looking to his lap, a dusting of pink entering his cheeks.

“Depends.”

“Depends…?” Connor repeated, taking the bowl and setting it on the table so he could get that much closer to Oliver.

He grinned slyly when Oliver put some distance between them again, shifting down a cushion.

“On what you’re planning.” Oliver met Connor’s eyes, curious and playful though a little guarded.

“Wanna come to this party with me?” Connor offered. “You’re already in costume.”

“A college party?” Oliver deadpanned, the raised eyebrow returning.

Connor made a face. “Not like that. We’re all law students, not frat boys, we know how to behave…” He scooted down some more, pressing his thigh against Oliver’s. “… when there isn’t a hot Waldo around.”

Oliver snorted hard, dissolving into giggles.

“Does that always work for you?”

“Yes.” Connor smirked, draping an arm over the back of the couch, not quite behind Oliver’s head.

They stared at one another for a while, the quiet sounds of violence and screams just background noise as they studied each other.

Connor watched how Oliver swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing, eyes flicking up and down Connor, lingering on his mouth. His lips parted slightly, as if in consideration, and Connor felt his heart rate speed up, making his fingers twitch and pinch the fabric of the couch.

“Yeah…” Oliver sounded a little breathless, eyes back on Connor’s. “Sure.”

Connor’s grin grew to show teeth, elated. “Awesome.”


	59. Christmas

Oliver was having a stressful holiday week.

His job hadn’t given him the days off he needed to visit home for Christmas, even after they said it would be fine and to go ahead and order your plane tickets, yeah sure, it’d be _fine_. Not like he wouldn’t be able to return or get a refund on his ticket. Oh wait that’s right, he couldn’t.

Oliver took a long pull from his bottle while he sat on the couch, glaring at his small Christmas tree set up on an end table. He was over his present budget and yet still hadn’t gotten anything for dad… and now that he wasn’t going home for the holidays, Oliver would have to ship all these gifts to his family. Fantastic.

Christmas sucked.

Oliver was taking another gulp from his beer when he heard people loudly talking outside, some shouting, loud enough to be heard over his TV, which quietly played a horror movie. Cos fuck Christmas.

Oliver’s ears perked as the sound diminished in a wave of whispered “shh’s” and loud throat clearing.

Then a burst of song erupted from Oliver’s front door and all he could do for his part was… sit stunned for a moment.

Brows furling, Oliver looked at his phone, 1:30… in the morning.

There were carolers at his door in the middle of the night.

With a grumble that could match the Grinch, Oliver shot himself up from his couch, unconcerned that he only wore boxer shorts and a hoodie, and marched to his front door.

With a flick of the wrist the deadbolt came loose and Oliver yanked the door back, leaning forward to open the screen door wide and addressing the small group of carolers.

“Hey!” Oliver shouted. The slight buzz from his drinking devoid Oliver of a politeness filter. “Shut up!”

The singers, all four of them, went silent. A few of them (a boy and girl linked arm-in-arm) collapsing into a fit of giggles.

One staggered forward. Oliver had a silly thought that maybe he should let them sing, or at least this guy, the one moving towards him right now, arms swinging out wide with a smile that could cut.

“Now that’s not nice, Mr. Scrooge.” He pointed a very direct finger at Oliver and his entourage giggled again behind him. “We’re just spreadin’ some good cheer ‘n shit.”

Oliver blinked. God, how can a drunk man look so attractive.

“It’s late, you’re disturbing the neighborhood.”

“ _You’re_ disturbing…” The guy snickered. “… my brain, cos you’re so cute.”

Oliver couldn’t help it, he grinned while the other guy in the group groaned dramatically.

“ _Ohmygod_ Connor, you said you wouldn’t be weird!”

The guy, Connor, ignored him. “C’mon, one song?”

The girls fell into a course of pleading and bouncing on their feet.

Oliver barely noticed them, eyes glued to Connor, who’s smile was growing the longer Oliver left them in silence.

“Fine. But just one, then you all need to go home. It’s seriously late and some people have work in the morning.”

Connor nodded in understanding. “Probably for the best.” He turned back to his friends.

“Someone did threaten to call the cops on us…” The girl huddled under the other guy’s arm mumbled.

And Connor led them in a drunken, off key, misheard lyric version of _Little Drummer Boy_ , with the other guy imitating a drum in front of him while horribly beat boxing to the words.

Oliver stood in his doorway, legs freezing and his stressful, shitty mood completely eradicated. Connor watched him the entire time, eyes mischievous and wandering down Oliver’s front every now and then, and Oliver returned the stare, biting back a grin and feeling himself getting warm despite the cold.

He was almost disappointed when they finished, but Oliver gave them a quiet round of applause, laughing softly at the bumbling bows each one of them attempted.

A slew of, “Thanks for listening,” and “Merry Christmas!” emitted from the four carolers as they began stumbling away, caught up in one another.

Except Connor, who lingered, hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“You know, for a Scrooge, you got some great legs.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?” Oliver crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway.

Connor smirked and Oliver was glad for the support of the frame, he nearly felt himself stumble.

One of the girls hollered for Connor in the middle of the road. Connor turned, giving them the “one second” finger before giving his attention back to Oliver. He slowly walked up the steps, arriving within arms distance from Oliver.

“What’s your name?”

Oliver straightened his shoulders, considering. And thinking, what the hell. This guy wouldn’t remember him anyway.

“Oliver.”

“Oliver,” Connor repeated, nodding. “I’m Connor, if you couldn’t tell by now.”

Oliver smiled again, his eyes darting to the floor, his bare toes turning purple.

“Nice to meet you.”

A hand appeared in his vision and Oliver looked up, meeting those gorgeous eyes again, brown, he could see. Oliver took the offering, giving his gloved hand a shake and loving how it fit against his own.

“Likewise, Connor.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

Connor gave Oliver’s hand one last squeeze before letting it drop.

Oliver chuckled softly.

“Yeah, maybe.”

* * *

“Maybe” turned into a surprising “definitely,” just a few weeks later.

It was days before Christmas and one of Oliver’s colleagues was hosting a party. Knowing Jim and how silly he was, Oliver assumed it would be safe to wear an ugly holiday sweater.

He was wrong. And so was Connor.

“Hey,” Connor finally found his was to Oliver, who smiled wide at Connor’s ridiculous red and green over-sized sweater that read, “Ho Ho Homo.”

“Hi.”

Connor’s smirk faltered a little, eyes dropping to the floor and back to Oliver.

“Have we met?”

Oliver laughed softly.

“Yeah, couple weeks ago. You and your friends sang in front of my house.”

Connor pointed a triumphant finger. “That’s right! Oliver?”

Oliver nodded, something pleasant shooting down his spine at the thought of Connor remembering his name.

“Connor.”

Connor smirked again. Its impact was more powerful when he was sober. Oliver felt his eyes glued to his lips and his brain wiped clean.

“Nice to meet you, again.” He held a hand out and Oliver took it, holding on strong and firm and maybe a little too long before letting it drop.

“I like your sweater.” Oliver smiled, watching Connor look down at himself.

He shrugged, taking a pull from his beer. “Yours is better. Looks like everyone else missed the memo, huh?”

Oliver’s sweater was a Christmas vomit of colors, stencils, and blinking lights. It was Oliver’s favorite sweater… when he used to feel festive.

“They so did. Forgot the lights were still on,” Oliver laughed a little to himself. He pulled the hem up a little and pressed the button to turn the little bulbs off. “Don’t want to distract anyone.”

“I doubt it’s the sweater that’s distracting.”

Oliver looked back to Connor and found his eyes just as they looked away from the patch of skin he’d accidentally exposed.

They ducked away from the crowd after that, finding a more peaceful corner to talk in. Oliver asking how he knew the host, who his friends were that night, and if that was something Connor did regularly.

Connor denied getting drunk enough to serenade random hot guys, he usually used his mouth for that. Which led to Oliver challengingly asking how that works, and Connor willingly taking the bait and pressing Oliver against the wall and kissing him senseless.

The night ended back at Oliver’s house, the two of them stumbling up icy stairs and discarding their silly sweater on the floor of Oliver’s bedroom.


	60. Connor can't sleep without Oliver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last fic I'm transferring from tumblr. I know I said I'd do 'em all but honestly, some of my headcanon posts can be left where they are.

“Thought you were mad at me.” Oliver’s voice is thick and groggy. His fingers barely keep the phone pressed to his ear. 

“I am…” Connor sounds wide awake. “But the bed is too big.”

Oliver smiles, eyes closed, face half smushed into the pillow that smells nothing like Connor. Nothing like home, soft yet lumpy pillows, well loved, where the fibers of Oliver’s old pillowcase smell like Connor’s tea tree shampoo no matter how much he’s washed it.

“… And cold,” Connor mumbles on. Oliver wonders how long he’s been awake.

Oliver pulls the blanket down so it’s not over his head and sits up a bit, propping the extra pillow against his shoulders.

“Want me to come home?”

“No.”

Oliver can’t help but grin. _Stubborn as usual._

“Then why did you call?”

Connor sighs on the other end, Oliver hears him shuffling.

“Just talk to me, help me fall asleep.”

“What do you want me to say?” Oliver whispers, closing his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, and pretending Connor is there with him, laying next to him, playing with the hem of the blankets.

Connor’s voice comes out in a yawn, “Anything…” then, softly: “I just need to hear your voice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, idk when I'll write a drabble again, but since I'm slowly weaning out of the htgawm fandom, feel free to posts prompts here. I'll still always love my boys. Thanks!


	61. Oliver is renting out his apartment to Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap, I forgot this one!

_Bzz bzz._

Oliver popped another apple slice into his mouth, checking his phone.

It was a text from Connor Walsh, a man who’d seen Oliver’s ad for a sublet to his apartment. They’d been chatting on and off for about a day now, general questions like, “how does payment work?” or “are pets allowed?” or “what about roof access?” sporadically popping into Oliver’s messages.

This time, the message read:

_Hey! I know we scheduled to meet tomorrow but I’m off work early and would love to see the apartment now, if you’re available._

Oliver looked around his living room, untidy and kind of smelly (his garbage needed to be taken out), before looking down at himself. Draw string sweatpants and a tattered old shirt from college draped over his, thankfully, clean body. Oliver had just got out of the shower.

 _When could you be here?_ Oliver replied, he only needed to do some mild cleaning, maybe light a candle… or two.

_Idk, 30 minutes at most. I’m getting to my car now._

Oliver nodded to himself.

_That should be fine. You still have the address?_

_Yep! I’ll text you when I’m there._

Oliver nodded again, blowing a sigh out from his mouth and standing up, making his way to the kitchen to prepare for a fast cleaning.

He lit a strong scented candle first, setting it on the island before taking out the garbage and recycling, wiping down the counters and tidying his bedroom, fixing the linen on the bed to look picturesque.

It was while he was washing his hands, that Oliver’s phone buzzed again, a simple two-word text from Connor lighting up the screen:

_I’m here._

Oliver grumbled when he realized he was still in his pajamas but figured whatever, slipping on some shoes and grabbing his keys, shutting the door behind him and taking the stairs down into the lobby.

A man hovered outside the door, hands stuffed into jacket pockets and looking off to the side. Oliver took a steadying inhale, forcing his lips up into a polite smile, and opened the door.

And almost abruptly fell to the floor.

Chocolate brown eyes turned to Oliver, accompanied by a sharp smile that could most definitely pass as a smirk, a corner of his lips pulling up and revealing a tiny bit of teeth.

“Oliver?”

“Uh, yes, Connor?” Oliver nodded, pulling the door open wide and stepping aside to let Connor in.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Connor turned, that smile still in place as he extended a hand to shake.

Oliver let the door fall closed, taking Connor’s hand customarily, squeezing hard because it was an unspoken rule, but also because Connor’s grip was tight and final, even though he had noticeably smaller hands. He felt embarrassed, letting his hand fall naturally, for increasing his grip just because Connor had a firmer handshake. Oliver was sure the other man felt that, and if that wasn’t the silliest thing Oliver had ever done…

Well, it wasn’t. Maybe accidentally checking out Connor while they stood in the lobby was the silliest thing Oliver had ever done, because he just did it.

Connor’s eyes flashed something mischievous as their gaze met again (after Oliver pulled his eyes up from Connor’s shoes, to the seat of his pants, to his neck and stubbled face). Oliver stuttered, walking past Connor quickly, headed for the stairs. Oliver thought he heard a light chuckle behind him.

“Ah, so, the apartment is on the third floor…” Oliver started, leading them up and around corridors.

“I thought I saw an elevator downstairs?” Connor supplied conversationally.

“Yeah well, you know it’s just three flights, not much of a work out,” Oliver threw a smile over his shoulder as he rounded another corner. Truthfully, he just didn’t want to stand in a small space with this guy, dreading the awkward silence, or Connor pointing out how audaciously Oliver had looked over Connor’s body. God, what had he been thinking!

“303,” Oliver nudged his head at the bronze plating on his door before letting them in, returning Connor’s infectious smile.

“ _Wooow_ ,” Connor’s eyebrows shot up, looking around. “It’s so much better than the pictures.”

“Yeah?” Oliver couldn’t help the prideful smile, leaning against a wall as Connor stepped in, observing his home.

“You said everything is staying?”

“Yeah,” Oliver pushed himself off the surface, stepping slowly with Connor. I’ll be back by March, just doing a temporary gig.”

“So I could pretend all this décor is my brainchild, and I’m just gay enough to pull it off.”

Oliver laughed lightly. “You should give me some credit, I put my heart and soul into picking out a color pallet.”

Connor snickered too, and Oliver caught himself staring at the young man’s profile, how his nose pointed and how sharp his jaw line was, perfectly complimenting that slender neck. Oliver swallowed, wringing his hands out nervously and looking away as Connor turned toward him.

“Anyway,” Oliver shoved his fiddling hands into his pants pockets, pinching the thick material from the inside. “The living room. I have a Playstation, if that interests you, but I mostly use it for Netflix so, you can totally sign in from there if you have an account…”

Connor only nodded, walking to the kitchen with Oliver.

“I like the kitchen,” Connor commented, checking out the appliances and resting his hands on the island. “Lots of counter space.”

Oliver choked on a gasp, coughing into his arm awkwardly. His neck was hot and he averted his eyes from Connor. For some reason, the way Connor said “counter space” was laced with… innuendo, and his eyes narrowed devilishly. As if “counter” was a dirty word… as if he meant to say, “lots of counter space for fucking someone on.”

And Oliver didn’t know why he thought that. He could have sworn Connor licked his lips though.

“You alright?” Connor asked, smiling. Yep, he was definitely smiling, showing off brilliant white teeth.

Oliver rubbed his hands over the back of his neck, willing the heat to go away, forcing a smile. “I’m fine…” he huffed, shaking his head and pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Let’s look at the bedroom.”

“Where all the action happens?” Connor nearly strutted out of the kitchen, giving Oliver a cheeky smile.

Oliver laughed dryly at that. “Hardly.”

After the bedroom (Connor sitting on Oliver’s bed, “testing the comfort”) and bathroom, the grand tour was over quickly, finding both men sitting on the couch facing each other.

“I really like this place,” Connor started, pulling a knee up and holding it in place on the cushion.

Oliver nodded. “I never got to ask you, but why are you looking to sublet?”

“Ah, got an internship, only lasts through winter so it’s kind of perfect to only stay here ‘til March,” Connor looked down at Oliver’s throw pillows, fiddling with a stray thread.

Oliver hummed. “Got any plans to stay in Philly afterwards?”

It was meant to be a simple question, an ice breaker, but Oliver wasn’t sure if his tone implied personal interest. He kind of hoped it did.

Connor shrugged, his cocky smile fading for the first time since he arrived and fixing Oliver with honest eyes. “Maybe, if another opportunity arrives.”

“Like what?” Oliver pulled his legs up, crossing them on the couch and facing Connor fully.

Connor’s lips parted, like he was about to answer, before laughing it off, looking elsewhere. “I don’t know. A job or… a hot guy who could convince me to live a city life.”

Oliver’s heart was racing, he hated how caught up he was with this total stranger who was barely into grad school. But something drew him to Connor, maybe charisma or how devastatingly handsome he was, either way Oliver knew he was done for as soon as Connor stepped into the building.

“You like living in the country?”

“Sometimes,” Connor grinned. “But there’s no opportunity out there, especially for lawyers, ugh.”

Oliver smiled in humor along with Connor, unaware of the comfortable silence building between them, sitting together on Oliver’s couch and smiling at one another. It was when Oliver caught Connor’s eyes, for a brief moment– not even for a half second, flick down, as if considering Oliver’s lips, before darting back up and away from his stare, that Oliver figured this had gone on long enough.

“Well, shoot me a text if you’re interested and I’ll set up the paperwork for you.” Oliver uncrossed his legs, avoiding Connor’s eyes and fighting down a blush creeping up his neck again.

Connor dropped the pillow back on the couch, standing up fast. “Sure thing.”

Connor walked with Oliver to the door, where the latter held it open for him. But they hovered instead, feet frozen, bodies wanting to linger, unable to step away from each other from some unknown force.

“I’m like, 95 percent sure I want this place.”

Oliver smiled. “Good, that’ll help me sleep at night.”

“Yeah,” Connor added unnecessarily, clapping his hands together.

Oliver’s finger’s drummed on the door, wondering why he couldn’t shut it just yet.

“Um, if you have any other questions or concerns you can think of, please ask. I feel like I missed something.”

“Sure thing,” Connor nodded, finally smiling like a normal person, controlled and friendly. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay,” Oliver returned the smile, slowly closing the door on Connor.

With a nod and goodbye, the door finally made it home, the lock clicking into place. Oliver turned, leaning back against the door and sighing loudly, rubbing his eyes underneath the glasses. Jesus, he acted like an imbecile… or a teenage girl. Either would work for this situation. He was pretty sure he hadn’t felt so nervous and giddy around a guy since his first semester of college.

Knocking at the door startled Oliver, a small scream hiccuping from his throat.

Oliver laid his hand on his heart, groaning at himself and turning again, door knob in hand, and pulling it open, coming face-to-face with Connor.

Oliver blinked. Connor looked… shy, hopeful, with that underlying confidence tearing free in the way his lips quirked at whatever expression Oliver was wearing (probably pure, unadulterated happiness).

“Hey,” Connor greeted again, like they didn’t just see each other 30 seconds ago. “I know this is weird but, I’d actually like to text you about anything, not just apartment stuff…” Connor took a step closer and Oliver could almost smell something woodsy– earthy, cologne probably. It nearly knocked Oliver off his feet, making him silently beg for Connor to come even closer.

“Maybe, about your day, or your job, or when I could take you out to dinner.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped before his lips stretched out into an impossibly wide smile, laughing at himself for having such a reaction to… such a smoothly executed line. Oliver couldn’t even remember the last time someone asked him out for dinner.

“Is that a yes?” Connor’s smug air was back, daring himself to take another step, inches away from Oliver.

“Yes,” Oliver answered softly, assuredly.

The smile that broke out on Connor’s face nearly matched Oliver’s, but with less teeth, more playful and victorious.

“May I come back in?”

“You’re pushing your luck,” Oliver said instead of dragging Connor in by his jacket collar, which he so wanted to do.

Connor’s smile refused to falter, brows narrowing like he didn’t believe Oliver for a second. But he stepped off anyway.

“I’ll text you, then.”

Oliver nodded. “Good bye, Connor.”

“Bye, Oliver.”


	62. Connor is a bullly

“Hey, nerd!”

Oliver’s eyes squeezed shut as he felt his body shoved against the lockers with a loud _bang_ that he was sure no one cared to listen to.

“Hello, Connor.” Oliver opened his eyes to see his tormentor, the same classmate who’d been picking on him since Oliver moved here last year.

Connor stood aggressively close, the only thing between their bodies was Oliver’s backpack, clutched protectively to his chest.

“What’s in the bag?”

Oliver sighed, resigned to his fate as Connor took a step back so Oliver could open his backpack and let Connor peruse it, as usual, lest he be put into the ground.

Connor pulled the bag open wider, grabbing Oliver’s prepacked lunch that his mom had lovingly sent him off with, and then Connor saw something else, hesitating before reaching down in the depths and procuring a chocolate bar.

“Is this Godiva?” Connor had on that horrible smirk.

Oliver’s jaw dropped. “Please, Connor. I’m saving that, my mom—“

Connor’s hand covered Oliver’s mouth harshly, pushing his glasses up his face awkwardly. Connor leaned in real close.

“You got this for me?” Connor asked in a mockingly sweet voice.

Oliver squirmed as Connor’s hand tightened around his jaw, forcing him to nod.

That devilish smirk sharpened, entirely too close to Oliver’s face.

“So sweet of you.”

He released Oliver’s mouth but still remained close as he ripped open the wrapping and slowly slipped the entire piece into this mouth.

Oliver hadn’t realized he’d been watching with his jaw slack until the chocolate was gone, followed by an indecent moan of approval from Connor.

“Y-you’re supposed to savor that.”

Connor’s hand came back up, causing Oliver to flinch but the hand just rested over the side of Oliver’s face, giving him a shake and gently slapping him twice.

“Thanks, freak.”

Connor gave one last shove before sauntering away, not sparing a glance back at his victim.

Oliver sighed in relief, his body relaxing as the shame and frustration washed over him. He looked down into his backpack before zipping it up again and then… leaned back against the lockers while lowering his bag just a few inches.

He was hard.

“I don’t know why you let him get to you like that, Oliver.”

Oliver pushed the mush that was school lunch around on his tray, eyes going sideways to sneak a peek at the topic of their discussion. Connor was sitting on a table surrounded by his friends, other jocks and some cheerleaders giving them too much attention.

“What else am I supposed to do?” Oliver looked back over at Wes. “Whenever I try fighting back I just look like an idiot.”

Oliver straightened up, looking at his friend matter-of-factly. “I know where my place is in this hell hole. I don’t need the extra attention, and I’ll quietly play my part.”

Wes leveled Oliver with an annoyed look.

“You’ll just continue letting him take your lunch and your homework?”

Oliver shrugged. The homework was never an issue, he always made another copy for himself, just in case.

Wes’ hand fell on Oliver’s arm. “You need to stand up for yourself. Do you want to go to college with that mentality?”

Oliver sighed. “Of course not, college will be different. More maturity and other out people.”

Oliver was one of the few kids in his school that was openly gay, though he didn’t flaunt it. And Oliver was pretty positive Connor didn’t pick on him because of that fact, the asshole certainly never called him something derogatory or… slapped his ass in the communal shower.

Wes leaned in close. “But Connor has never actually hit you, right?”

Oliver shook his head. “But his promises are pretty convincing.”

“But also empty.” Wes supplied, poking Oliver’s arm. “Next time he bothers you, just don’t give in. I’m not asking you to punch him,” Wes said quickly when Oliver rolled his eyes. “But just, don’t do anything. See what happens.”

It was a pretty terrifying idea. Not that Oliver was scared of Connor… not really. He more so found him annoying, a thorn in his side. But there was a twinge of fear, not for his physical being but as a junior with one more year left of high school and the labels, jeers, and taunts that Oliver would have to endure until graduation. If he tried standing up to his bully and failed, that would give the student body cause to mock him for the rest of the year and possibly beyond.

Oliver didn’t want that. He liked being the quiet kid, the one no one looked twice at, the one forgotten about in gym class while choosing teams. He didn’t mind that sometimes classmates would forget his name, Oliver liked being invisible. He was actually lucky he only had one bully, and the worst Connor had done was petty thievery and shoving.

Maybe Wes was on to something…

It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, Connor physically imposing himself upon Oliver. Usually Oliver would go days without being pestered, verbal jabs were more common, especially if Connor’s douche friends were around. So it wasn’t until a week had passed that Connor cornered Oliver again, this time outside, while Oliver was making his way to class.

“Hey, glasses!”

Oliver stiffened, but didn’t stop walking, keeping his eyes forward.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Oliver swallowed as Connor’s voice came closer, he could hear his classmate jogging up to him.

A hand fell upon Oliver’s shoulder and forced him to turn around, coming face-to-face with Connor.

Oliver brought his lips in, forcing himself to stare into Connor’s eyes.

“You ignoring me?”

Oliver’s lips parted to answer, but shut them again, keeping quiet.

Connor’s brows furled. “What?”

Oliver continued staring. This probably wasn’t what Wes had in mind by “do nothing,” but fight or flight was failing him, so Oliver could only stand still and wait.

Connor made an agitated sound, looking around and back to Oliver.

“Say something!”

Oliver jumped, startled, and looked down at their shoes. Connor stood maybe a foot away, always so close.

“You… called out to me.” Oliver said, looking back up. As if Connor was the one who needed to explain himself.

Connor’s brows furled. His usual look of cocky arrogance replaced momentarily by something resembling confusion.

“Yeah, so?”

Oliver felt the corner of his mouth lift into a smile. He bit down to keep it from growing and noticed, with an involuntary thrill, how Connor’s eyes flicked down to catch the movement.

Heart pounding in his ears, Oliver pulled his shoulders back, forcing himself to keep eye contact.

“Did you want my attention?”

The late bell rang then. A corner or Oliver’s mind was annoyed that he was now late for class, but the pressing issue was memorizing the utterly baffled look Connor was sporting right now.

Connor made a sound that could have been a scoff. He shoved Oliver sideways and marched passed him.

“Whatever.”

Oliver let out an audible sigh, a nervous breath he had been holding in for faux confidence.

 _Well, that was interesting…_ Oliver turned to watch Connor’s retreating figure.

It was probably weird, not to mention pathetic, to have a crush on your bully.

But Oliver had eyes.

Connor was devastatingly gorgeous, lean and toned body of a soccer player, thick dark brown hair that naturally fell into place to always look luscious. And God, his smirk. Connor had never thrown it at Oliver, the sexy one he made at girls in the hall, making them swoon, or teachers to curve his grades. And thank goodness for that cos if the full force of that look was ever directed at Oliver, he’d probably cream his pants.

Was Connor straight? Oliver wasn’t sure. The soccer jock could be seen flirting with girls but had never been _seen_ with one. He seemed comfortable around his male classmates and team mates, never afraid to stand close and give hugs… or maybe Connor was just secure in his sexuality.

Not that Oliver would ever find out, he was sure Connor just liked picking on him for his own amusement.

Though fate had presented Oliver with an opportunity to find out in the form of a class assignment. Oliver had been late to English, one of the few classes he shared with Connor, and so had automatically been assigned to team up with him, as no one else had volunteered.

Oliver was terrified Connor would be one of those slackers who lazed about while their partner did all the work. But after the initial groaning and grumbling from Connor, Oliver was surprised to see the teen starting to contribute.

“You actually read the book?”

Connor aimed a sarcastic look toward Oliver as they studied in the library.

“Of course I did. Did you?”

Oliver rolled his eyes and continued taking notes on his laptop. He felt Connor’s gaze lingering on him, across the table and tried to ignore it, flipping through a few pages in his book.

An awkward silence had fallen, and Oliver could still sense Connor taking periodic looks at him and finally sighed, tilting his head up to address Connor.

“What?”

Connor looked back down at his own copy of the book, speaking quietly.

“Your glasses are about to fall off your nose, idiot.”

Oliver scrutinized Connor, who continued reading, before defiantly pushing his glasses back up his nose.

The bell for class rang and the boys silently gathered their things.

“I can’t keep coming to the library before class,” Connor started, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m so tired the words are blurring together.”

Oliver bit his lip, deliberating and hating what he was about to ask.

“Wanna come over to my place after school?”

He peeked up and saw Connor giving him a dubious expression.

“Your house?”

Oliver sighed, zipping his bag and hefting it from the table.

“Look, I know you hate me,” Oliver paused as Connor’s head ducked and his eyes swiped to the side. “But an hour every other day isn’t enough time to get this finished. Just, don’t be mean to my mom.”

Connor turned to head out the library, Oliver right next to him.

“Whatever.”

“I’ll give you my number and we—“

“I don’t need your fucking number. Just write down your address and I’ll be there whenever.” Connor snapped, turning the corner as soon as they exited the library and stalking off 

_What the hell is his deal?_

Around five Oliver heard the doorbell ring and raced to the living room before his mom could answer it. He had warned her in advanced that he had a “friend” coming over, though using such an endearing term to describe Connor Walsh left a sour taste in his mouth.

Swinging to door open, Oliver felt an involuntary jolt of pleasure, seeing Connor walk through the threshold of his home.

“Uh, shoes off, please.”

Connor complied without a word, without even looking at Oliver.

“Where’s the shindig?”

“Um…” Oliver led Connor into the living room. “My room? Mom’s making dinner right now and she will distract us if we stay here.” Oliver gestured to the sofa and tried not to feel insulted as Connor tensed up at the Oliver offering his bedroom.

“Oliver!” A small Filipino woman came from the kitchen, looking up at Connor. “This is your friend?”

Before Oliver could open his mouth, Connor gave a small wave and extended his hand. “Connor. You have a really nice home.”

“Oh!” She took Connor’s hand and shook it aggressively, making a grin crack open on Connor’s face and leaving Oliver stunned speechless.

“I hope you stay for dinner. I’m making chicken alfredo.”

“Sounds good.” Connor said, the picture of politeness.

“Mom we’re, uh, going to my room.”

“Okay, have fun you two!”

Oliver brought his lips in, horrified at the implication, and looked forward as he made his way up the stairs, not sparing a glance back to make sure Connor was following.

“Your mom seems nice.” Connor tried, standing awkwardly as Oliver closed the door behind them and sat heavily onto his bed.

 _So do you_ , Oliver thought, suspicious.

Instead Oliver gestured for Connor to sit on his computer chair and brought his own legs up to cross them on his bed, opening his backpack.

“So, I have a few ideas for our presentation…”

They worked diligently for a while, Oliver continued to keep a skeptical eye on Connor, who hadn’t insulted him once since entering his house, and even seemed… nicer. He was going along with whatever Oliver said, actually responded and spoke up himself and generally looked more like an approachable human being. It made Oliver very concerned.

He wanted to bring up why Connor was acting like a completely different person, but was too afraid to break whatever spell this was.

Until Connor spoke up first.

“So, where’s your dad?”

Oliver looked over, meeting Connor’s eyes.

“It’s just me and mom. He left us when I was little.” Oliver continued cutting out paper shapes for their poster board. They had moved to the floor and sat across from each other, pieces of their project surrounding them.

“That sucks, sorry.”

Oliver shrugged, keeping his eyes on his work.

He saw Connor tapping a glue stick against his thigh.

“My mom died a couple years ago.”

Oliver’s head snapped up, catching Connor’s eyes flick to the floor.

“Dad’s still not over it.”

Oliver didn’t know what to say. A primal, instinctive urge to protect himself held him back from opening up to Connor and show emotion. Why was Connor asking about his family and suddenly dropping his own tragedy as if they shared personal stories all the time? They weren’t friends. They were barely classmates. Connor had such a vendetta against Oliver for no reason, he’d never even noticed Connor bullying anyone else in school. Sure he was rude to some kids and acted like a complete jerk when his dumb friends were around, but Oliver was convinced Connor only physically came after him. Why all this chit chat?

“Why are you talking to me?”

Connor looked over, brows furled. Oliver swallowed, sure he’d unleashed the beast now.

“What?”

“Like, why are you telling me this? We’re not friends.”

Connor looked down again, fiddling with the glue stick.

He scoffed. “Guess not.”

Connor went quiet again, getting back to work. Oliver sat silent, watching him.

_What the fuck?_

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” Oliver’s mom announced through the floorboards.

Again, Connor was the prime example of politeness at dinner. He answered all of Oliver’s mom’s questions, provided conversation of his own, and Oliver felt like his brain was going to explode from the confusion.

Oliver told Connor to leave after that. He couldn’t take the madness anymore.

“Hey,” Connor turned to face Oliver in the doorway, arm resting on the frame. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you at school, I won’t do it anymore.”

Oliver cocked an eyebrow. He checked behind him and stepped forward, causing Connor to walk backwards onto the porch as Oliver closed the door behind them.

“If this is a trick—“

“It’s not.” Connor insisted, hands out. “I’m just… a little lost right now, and I had been taking it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Oliver studied Connor’s eyes: wide, innocent, hopeful. It’s a look Oliver had never seen the other boy give.

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked, crossing his arms. He hated being empathetic. But if Connor was telling the truth that would explain his behavior today. Maybe he was just different at school to uphold an image or to protect himself… Oliver hated giving excuses for people.

Connor shrugged, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.

“I…” His eyes flicked up to Oliver’s and down to his shoes, shuffling a bit.

“You’re really cute.”

Oliver’s eyes blew wide. Connor’s hand flew up to the back of his neck, rubbing it awkwardly.

“Bye.” He turned and stumbled down the stairs towards his car. 

Oliver stayed rooted to the spot, even after Connor had driven away.

“He said _what_?” Wes demanded as they walked to class together.

“I’m just as surprised as you.”

Truthfully, Oliver hadn’t slept much that night, repeating Connor’s words over and over again in his brain until he felt like stabbing himself.

“Have you seen him yet?”

Oliver shook his head. But it was only second period, anything could happen.

“You think it’s a prank?” Wes continued grilling Oliver.

“Eh…” Oliver thought back to how honest and vulnerable Connor had seen. It was such a stark contrast to how the teen normally behaved that it led Oliver to believe, after stewing on it all night, that Connor was being truthful.

But Oliver also didn’t want to delude himself into thinking someone who looked like Connor could ever believe he was “cute.”

“Oh shit, there he is.”

Oliver looked up to see the subject of their gossiping approach, alone and without the usual mischievous look on his face.

They stopped as Connor advanced on them, though it didn’t feel threatening.

“Hey Oliver,” he looked over to Wes and so missed the flabbergasted expression that nearly floored Oliver at the teen using his actual name.

“And, Wes, right?”

It was almost comedic how Oliver and Wes looked at each other and back to Connor.

“Yes…” Wes hedged, shifting to stand closer to Oliver.

“Um,” Connor’s eyes darted between the two of them before landing on Oliver.

“Can I talk to you, after school?”

Oliver took in Connor’s seemingly insecure stance and his pleading eyes, opening his mouth to answer, but was interrupted.

“Yo, Walsh!”

They all turned to see a group of jocks, Connor’s friends, come out from the building and approach them.

“Shit,” Connor mumbled, shuffling nervously. “After school, under the bleachers, please?”

And he left, dodging the team’s direction away from the pair of confused boys.

After a moment, Oliver and Wes continued to class, the latter’s jaw nearly hitting the ground.

“You going?”

Oliver clutched his books close to his chest. His mind was racing and honestly whatever this was it was happening too fast.

“Probably.”

“Want me to come with?”

Oliver only thought about it for a second before shaking his head. “I’ll be fine.”

After waiting ten minutes after the final bell, Oliver was beginning to think he’d been duped. Connor hadn’t changed and this was all an elaborate prank. He kicked around the dirt and sighed, taking a pole and swinging distractedly back and forth.

Did Oliver even want to try anything with Connor if the teen was telling the truth? Sure Oliver thought Connor was annoyingly beautiful, but his attitude and the way he treated Oliver obviously stunted whatever other feelings could have grown. Did that stop Oliver from the occasional sex dream and fantasy that played out behind his eye lids after dark? Of course not.

It was curious, now that Oliver thought about it, how close Connor always got to Oliver when he was picking on him. It was probably meant to elicit intimidation but if Oliver- or anyone- took away the name calling and threatening position, Connor’s scare tactics looked a lot like… flirting.

Oliver blanched at the thought, but a pleasant tingle warmed his stomach at the idea of Connor’s hands on Oliver, his mouth close enough to taste, and his body against him producing heat between them.

It certainly wasn’t like the bullying Oliver got at his old school, nor did it resemble anything he’d ever seen the other jocks partake in… did that excuse Connor’s actions? Obviously not, but after yesterday and Connor’s confession, Oliver had to wonder…

“Oliver?”

Gasping loud enough to be a shriek, Oliver released the pole he was swinging from and fell to the ground, surprised and now mortified as Connor came over to help, dusting him off.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He was smiling and Oliver felt his knees wobble.

“I wasn’t—“ Oliver started, fixing his glasses, and stopped, looking down at his hands and popping his knuckles. “What do you want?”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck again, leaving his hand there as he spoke.

“I meant what I said, yesterday.”

They looked at each other, Oliver’s mind racing again.

“Your words and your actions are very contradicting.”

“I know,” Connor brought his hand down to stuff both into his pockets. “I’ve never liked a boy before though… I’ve never liked anyone before.” He shrugged and Oliver ignored the sharp jab to his chest at Connor admitting he liked him.

“I was confused, I guess. I knew I wanted to talk to you or, anything… but every time I looked at you, I got so nervous. The guys just flirt with girls and I couldn’t do that, I don’t know why…” Connor babbled, an arm coming out wide with a frustrating flourish.

Oliver stood silent, watching, listening.

“It’s stupid to explain myself, I guess. I have no excuse… I kind of fail at human emotions.”

Oliver wet his lips.

“If you liked me, why did you keep picking on me?”

“I don’t know… my dad calls it ‘tough love’ which I know is stupid. And the guys—we all push each other around and wrestle—not that I’d ever wrestle you…”

A silence passed between them, both occasionally meeting each other’s eyes but mostly looking around instead.

“So… now what?” Oliver asked softly, anxious.

Connor took a deep breath. “Now…” He studied Oliver’s face.

“I’d like to start over. As friends, if you’d like.”

A grin broke out on Oliver’s face. “Friends?”

Connor matched the grin, his more of a smirk. “Well, I’d like more than that but I don’t wanna push anything.”

Oliver didn’t say anything, just took a slow inhale as Connor took a hesitant step forward, reaching a hand out and carefully touching Oliver’s arm.

“I don’t mind a little pushing.” Oliver said, smiling goofily at the responding snort from Connor.

“Yeah?” And Connor’s hands became sure around Oliver’s wrist, grabbing forcefully and pulling Oliver to press flush against his front, arms a snare around Oliver’s middle.

Gasping sharply, Oliver’s arms immediately wound themselves around Connor’s shoulders.

“I’m worried what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Connor smirked wickedly, that old confident swagger reappearing but directed in a more sensual way, making Oliver’s heart perform numerous back flips.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be real good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upon rereading, I am very dissatisfied with this. I wanted to make this longer, make Oliver reject Connor at first and make it a more realistic slow burn of earning back trust... but then I saw where my mind was going and abruptly ended it. I'm swearing off multichapters for a long time lol


	63. Oliver is Connor's boss, enemies to lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooh this was so fun to write. Copied from tumblr with additional smut scene ;) Rated M

“Connor.”

Connor looked up and wanted to groan, seeing his boss approach him.

“Yes?”

Oliver Hampton dropped a stack of papers on Connor’s desk.

“Get these reviewed for me by the end of the week, our client is not a patient man.”

Connor felt his jaw drop before snapping it shut, grinding his teeth.

“Sir, I already have a load of work to do for O’Connell—“

“Did I stutter?” Mr. Hampton snapped his fingers, the sharp sound making Connor’s brow twitch in irritation.

He walked away without another word. Connor watched him go, flipping his retreating backside the bird, keeping the digit up in the air as his eyes fixed themselves to Mr. Hampton’s ass.

“He’s such an asshole,” Connor grumbled to one of his coworkers one night, taking an angry bite out of his burger. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”

Wes took the bottle of beer away from his mouth.

“You know he only gives you so much work because you can’t keep your attitude in check.”

Connor did a double take. “What attitude? All that prick does is amplify my workload and turn my hair grey.”

Wes chuckled good naturedly, looking past Connor, down the bar, so he missed how Connor’s eyes glazed over, thinking about their boss. Thinking of all the horrible things he wanted to do to him, like piss on his desk, smash his computer in, or… tear off his jacket and shirt and shove him against a wall and bite his throat

“You wanted to see me?” Connor brought his lips in, he almost called Mr. Hampton “sir” and tried, on principle, to never address his boss so formally. He didn’t deserve his respect.

Even though, on the outside, Connor could admit that Oliver Hampton did a great job with the company. His team was outstanding and they all got along (at least those under him, like Connor and Wes and everyone else). Whenever a conflict emerged Oliver was always there to sort it out or offer a teachable moment. Not that that made Oliver a good person, it was just an admirable trait to have, professionally.

“Yes,” Oliver started, looking away from his laptop and gesturing for Connor to have a seat across from him.

“The work on your last project was stunning. Jackson received a 10% profit increase since you took over the account, and in such a short time too…”

Mr. Hampton went on, talking about the logistics of it all and Connor found himself zoning out. Oliver was looking back to his computer, pushing his glasses up, turning the laptop to face Connor to show him something. His hands were so big, with long fingers that should’ve belonged to a pianist or guitar player. Connor wondered why he never noticed Oliver’s hands before, they were magnificent.

“That being said,” Oliver hesitated, unaware of Connor’s trailing thoughts. “We’ve seen this same formula over and over again in your work and feel you need a bit more originality, creativity to the process. So I’m assigning an intern to work with you…”

_What?_

“Wait, stop.” Connor shook his head, leaning forward. “I don’t want an intern.”

Mr. Hampton’s lips curled up in that condescending smile. “Well this isn’t about what you _want_ , it’s what we believe you need in order to—“

“I’m fine alone. You just said my numbers are great—“

“Yes,” Oliver interrupted. “But the building blocks are the same, not every client is gonna want the format the last business implemented.”

Connor scoffed. “I do what they ask me to do. I always create drafts for them, but they like the old ways so I do it for them.”

“It doesn’t look good for our company—“

“If you’re dumping an intern on me, then I demand a raise.” Connor switched tracks, keeping his face straight, determined, as his voice rose over Oliver’s, ignoring the glare his boss sent him.

A sharp silence stretched between them.

“I can’t afford to give you a raise at the moment.”

“Oh,” Connor gave a derisive smile. “Like that raise you couldn’t afford for _Asher_?”

Oliver huffed, sitting back in his chair and bringing his hands to his lap. “That’s none of your concern.”

Connor stood up, placing his hands on the surface of Oliver’s desk and leaning over it to look down on Oliver. It made him feel powerful, and the irate scowl Oliver shot back at him only amused Connor.

“I refuse your intern, _sir_.”

Oliver stood up too, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. Connor followed suit, annoyed that Oliver stood a few mere inches over him.

They stared at one another, Oliver obviously irritated but hiding it behind a carefully constructed mask of superiority (which Connor hated, Oliver’s face was too stupid and soft and cute to pull the look off), while Connor collected his expression into something cool and intimidating.

Connor didn’t know what he was waiting for, Oliver needed to say something… either accept that Connor worked alone or fight him some more… or fire him on the spot for standing up for himself.

His eyes got bored and traveled down without his consent, checking out how Oliver’s suit fit to his body, the blue checkered tie around his neck, down to the seat of his pants.

Connor’s eyes flicked back up, unknowing how his eyes had softened and his face relaxed into something casual and flirty, after studying how big Oliver’s penis might be.

Oliver blinked, suddenly unsure and looking away, which made Connor smirk in preemptive victory.

Then it was Oliver’s turn to lay his hands on his desk, leaning forward, getting just a little too close to Connor’s face, making the younger man’s head spin.

“Give it a couple weeks, you might like it.”

“… What?” Connor felt like his brain had been wiped clean. Oliver was so close…

“An intern.”

At once Connor remembered why he was mad and made a sound like a growl, turning away from those distracting brown eyes.

“Whatever.”

Having an intern wasn’t all bad, though Connor hated admitting that to himself. He mostly hated how his already small cubicle now had to be shared three times a week with some air headed college student. Connor usually used his time alone to plot horrible things to do to his boss, or how to get him to beg for mercy when Connor would take over his position… in a bed or in the shower. God, Oliver was so annoying, even invading his thoughts when he wasn’t at work.

The year was wrapping up though and luckily time with the company had ended with the internship and Connor was able to celebrate with the rest of the staff during the annual Christmas party.

The bar that was chosen to host the event was big and modern, with free food and discounted drinks to go around. Connor chatted amiably with his coworkers and tried desperately not to ogle how great Oliver looked in a knit sweater and blue jeans, holy shit.

Hours passed with who knows how many drinks and Connor thought about going home before he got too drunk, when Oliver approached him.

“Hey, a couple of us are gonna keep the party going downtown if you wanna join us.”

“Who’s us?” Connor asked instead of wondering why Oliver was talking to him like they were old friends.

Oliver gestured to the group of managers hanging out by the doors and Connor gagged.

“No thanks. If I wanted to brown nose, I’d pick a guy I didn’t know.”

Oliver turned halfway, maybe to hide his animated eye roll, but Connor caught it anyway, snickering at the reaction and taking another sip of his drink.

“This is why I can’t promote you.” Oliver leaned in close to speak in Connor’s ear. “You’re such a douchebag.”

“ _Me?!_ ” Connor shrieked, drunkenly laughing. “You purposefully single me out and always put the most work on my shoulders, when _you know_ I’m doing a better job than half of my department.” He jabbed a finger in Oliver’s chest, then two, just to feel again how firm he felt under that thick sweater.

“Stop that,” Oliver commanded, taking Connor’s fingers and holding them in his hand.

Connor looked at his fingers trapped in Oliver’s warm hand and up to his boss, curious at the longing expression in his eyes, and gasping a little at how his thumb began to caress up and down Connor’s hand.

Or maybe it was just his imagination.

“Wanna let go now orrr…?”

Oliver dropped his hold on Connor, shaking his head as if exasperated. Connor ignored how his heart thumped erratically.

“Go find yourself a stranger then.” Oliver began walking to the group, finding his coat draped over a chair and sensing Connor stumbling behind.

“Wait,” Connor grabbed Oliver’s sleeve, unsure why he was stopping him.

Oliver huffed and faced Connor once more, waiting.

Connor’s jaw moved wordlessly, staring at Oliver and enamored how the dim lights of the bar reflected off his glasses.

“Maybe next time?”

Oliver shook his head again, looking a little… distraught.

“Not outside a work function. You’re my employee, it’s unprofessional.”

Connor brought his lips in, nodding once.

“Not like we’d enjoy each other’s company anyway, right?"

Oliver’s face softened, watching Connor, studying him.

“Right.”

* * *

Connor busted in through the double doors, breathing heavy and taking the stairs to his department. He was late. His one-night stand was being the clingiest bitch and on top of that his car wouldn’t start so he had to order an Uber and of course he accidentally picked the Uber Pool option which made him extra late for work and Kathy at the front desk didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic when Connor called to say he’d be late.

Connor clocked in with sweat dripping down his back and ignored the stares people sent him as he trudged his way to his desk and collapsed into it, pulling a hand through his ungelled hair.

Connor thought he’d gotten away with it, coming into work 40 minutes late, when near the end of his shift, a manager informed him that Oliver wanted to see him in his office.

Putting on his best bullshitting smile, Connor stood and made his way to Mr. Hampton’s office.

Oliver was waiting, instructing, as always for Connor to close the door as he made his way in.

“Have a seat.”

“I’m good standing.” Connor’s fake smile hurt to maintain but he liked the irritation it made flash across Oliver’s face.

After a moment of confrontational silence, Oliver finally sighed and pulled out a slip of paper from his desk.

“This is the third time you’ve been late in the past three months. I’m issuing you a write up.”

Connor huffed. “I’m not late on purpose.”

“I’m sure you’re not, but today was 40 minutes and that’s just ridiculous.”

“My car wouldn’t start,” Connor made his way to Oliver’s desk. “I called Kathy—“

“That’s not my problem.” Oliver slid the paper towards Connor. “Sign this and you can be on your way.”

“I’ll stay an extra hour to make up for it—“

“Connor.” Oliver spoke loudly, voice stern and commanding Connor’s attention. “I don’t make the rules, just enforce them. If you can’t kick your fuck buddy out of your bed in time for work that’s got nothing to do with me.”

Connor’s jaw clenched. He collapsed his elbows onto Oliver’s desk, his brows narrowing as he spoke with venom in his voice.

“I bet you’d like that to be about you, huh?”

Oliver pushed back in his rolly chair, hands gripping the edge of his desk as he propelled himself up, clearly over Connor’s back lashes.

“God I can’t stand you,” Oliver began, getting in Connor’s face, who stood up again to be eye level. “You really think you own the place, like you can just get away with anything. Coming in late, sassing me, demanding a raise. I’ve had enough of you thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Oh,” Connor dramatically placed his hand over his chest. “I don’t think I’m better, I know I am. And so do you. You get so angry when I finish the extra work you shit on me, and never have anything positive to say to me unless it’s immediately followed by criticism, as if I don’t already know my strengths and weaknesses. You just like the excuse to bully me.”

Oliver looked affronted. “I do not.”

“Yes you do.” Connor was breathing hard, his heart rate accelerating, his cock hardening. “You like being above me, like bossing me around is some kind of weird kink. I bet you get off on it every night.”

“I—“ Oliver started, getting a finger in Connor’s face, but cut himself off, mouth open uselessly.

They were both breathing hard, fierce eyes shaking as they watched each other, waiting in the alarming silence for the other to speak again.

Instead Oliver brought the hand that was already pointing at Connor and secured it around his neck, pulling him in for a harsh kiss that Connor immediately reciprocated, moaning brokenly in his boss’s mouth.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Connor whined, grabbing onto Oliver’s lapels and pulling him as close as the desk would allow, shoving his tongue down Oliver’s throat and groaning appreciatively as Oliver’s fingers tightened in his hair in response.

They wildly made out, kissing, biting and touching frantically before Oliver tore himself away, inhaling sharply and stumbling back a few steps, nearly falling back into his chair.

Connor was backing up too, distractedly keeping his eyes on Oliver as he reached the door to his office, looking back once to get his fingers on the lock and flicking it secure.

“No, hold on…” Oliver started, panting heavily, eyes flicking up and down, between Connor’s mouth and the tent in his pants.

Connor started walking back, shedding his jacket and pulling at his tie as he did so.

“Yes, sir?”

That snapped something in Oliver, making his eyes go dark and all he could do was watch Connor come back, around his desk, one hand sliding up Oliver’s chest and the other going down to palm him through his expensive slacks. Oliver choked on his breath, watching Connor hungrily and forcing to keep his hands down.

“This- this isn’t going to get you out of the write up,” Oliver gasped sharply as Connor pushed him against his desk, leaning in to bite his bottom lip.

“I didn’t think so…” He slotted his groin against Oliver’s, both moaning softly as their erections brushed. “But I’m still gonna fuck you.”

A grin escaped Oliver’s lust fogged brain as he pulled Connor impossibly closer, arms winding around his shoulders. “Better make it fast.”

Connor’ hands on Oliver’s hips tightened as he rolled his hips, the action pushing Oliver’s desk along the floor with a scrape.

“You know I don’t listen to you.”

Connor collided their mouths together again, picking back up like they hadn’t stopped. Oliver’s fingers threaded in his hair and pulled and _God_ Connor loved it. He continued rutting against Oliver as they kissed, swallowing his moans and letting the muffled sound control his actions, letting a hand escape to reach around Oliver and grab hold of his ass, squeezing and tugging him roughly to meet his next thrust.

“ _Connor_ ,” Oliver sighed, tilting his head eagerly as Connor nosed up his jaw line and down his neck.

“How long have you wanted this, huh?” Connor whispered into Oliver’s ear, giving it a nip.

Panting, Oliver didn’t sound as stern as he intended with a, “Shut up…”

Connor’s hands worked fast, flipping open Oliver’s belt buckle and getting the button and zipper free from his slacks.

“You think about me fucking you on this desk?”

Before Connor could grab Oliver’s erection, he let out a stunned sound of surprise as Oliver spun them around, pushing Connor down flat against his desk, knocking things to the floor, and advancing over him with a hand grabbing him through his pants.

Oliver leaned close, speaking softly, with a low voice that made shivers run down Connor’s spine.

“I think about fucking _you_.” He said, wiping Connor’s mind clean as he freed Connor’s cock with one hand and stroking it with a firm grasp.

“ _Shit_ ,” Connor gasped, hands flying to Oliver’s shoulders, gripping hard and trying to steady himself while bucking into Oliver’s hand.

“In this position, actually…” Oliver’s head tilted down, getting his first look at Connor and back up, licking his lips as he got a knee up, pushing himself down so his still clothed arousal rolled against Connor’s, making him whimper.

“Keeping you down, maybe gagging you…” Oliver covered Connor’s mouth with his hand just as Connor let out an indecent moan, now muffled, eyes rolling back and trying fruitlessly to match Oliver’s thrusts.

Oliver leaned in close again, speaking hotly into Connor’s ear. “Bet you’re a loud bottom.”

 _Holy shit_ , what did Connor get himself into. This wasn’t supposed to be the Oliver Hampton he imagined. Then again, what else did he expect, challenging his pretentious boss. Connor wouldn’t let him win, no matter how bad Connor wanted exactly that, he was sure he could make Oliver scream too.

His tongue darted out, licking Oliver’s palm, who took his hand away casually, like he was going to let Connor free anyway. He lowered his leg and helped pull Connor to stand again, eyeing his subordinate with a dark, assertive gaze.

“Maybe next time,” Connor said, finally pushing Oliver’s pants and underwear down, taking him in hand and _oh fuck…_

Connor watched his hand gently stroking Oliver’s cock, thick and long and so pretty, he almost changed his mind.

“Definitely next time…” Connor whispered distractedly, not missing the satisfied chuckle from above.

“Deal.” Oliver said huskily, drawing Connor’s attention and locking eyes.

Connor wondered what the flutter in his chest meant at the promise of a next time, but instead met Oliver halfway for another kiss. It was still deep and messy, but slower, more erotic, Oliver tasted like chai tea and Connor kind of loved that.

Connor turned them around once more, so Oliver was against his desk again.

“Turn around.”

With a final kiss Oliver did, immediately bending forward so his ass stuck out. Connor growled appreciatively, his hands fondling the perky cheeks and experimentally slotting his front against it, teasingly sliding his dick between them.

Oliver hummed, rolling his hips back slowly and making Connor groan softly, leaning over Oliver’s back to whisper in his ear.

“I knew you wanted to be dominated.”

Oliver’s neck twisted to focus on Connor. “You keep it up and I’ll throw you on this desk and show you dominance.”

Connor smirked, reaching around and grabbing Oliver’s cock just as he rubbed his own against his hole, making his boss bite his lip to keep in a cry of pleasure.

“I look forward to that.” Connor spoke honestly. “Don’t scream, okay?”

“What?” Oliver looked back but Connor was gone, on his knees and licking a stripe from Oliver’s balls to his ass hole. Oliver grabbed the edge of his desk and inhaled the cry that almost came out of him, snapping his mouth shut and closing his eyes at the sensation.

Connor teased the tight ring with the tip of his tongue, using his hands to spread Oliver wide. He waited, licking and sucking, hearing Oliver panting with anticipation before finally giving him what he wanted and sinking his tongue as far as it would go inside him.

Connor’s own hips stuttered involuntarily as Oliver pushed his ass back unashamedly, hoping to get more. Connor’s fingers gripped tight enough to leave marks as he flicked his tongue up, searching, pressing deeper and hoping he could reach that spot when—

“ _Ah_ —“ Followed by a loud slap that must’ve been Oliver’s hand going over his mouth.

Connor smiled in victory, taking his tongue out and repeating the torturous ministrations of nipping and kissing down to Oliver’s balls and back up, dragging his tongue over Oliver’s perineum and nearly making the older man’s knees buckle.

“ _Connor_ …” Oliver begged softly. The sound of Oliver voice, already coming undone, made Connor’s cock _hurt_ with how bad he wanted it inside Oliver.

But instead he pushed his tongue into Oliver one more time, swirling it and getting it against his prostate, encouraging Oliver to rut back on his face and loving every second of it.

“Connor, stop, _oh my God_ …”

A few more fast thrusts, just when he felt Oliver’s body shaking with impending release, Connor pulled out, dick twitching at the sound of distress from Oliver, and rested on the heels of his feet, admiring the view.

 _Fuck_ , Oliver was so gorgeous like this. His back arched, shirt and jacket still on while he ass stuck out lewdly, balls drawn tight and cock engorged and leaking. Connor wanted to make him cum, wanted to suck that dick in his mouth right now, but he had other plans.

He straightened up, stepping out of his pants fully and reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, taking out a condom he had hidden in there.

Stepping up to Oliver again, not missing the tiny jolt (so sensitive) his boss gave at being touched, Connor leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Lube or lotion? I know you have it in here.”

Distractedly, Oliver moved, opening up a drawer and pulling out a small bottle of lotion.

Connor grinned. His boss was so naughty, who knew. He took the bottle, delighted how Oliver resumed his position, waiting, eager.

Connor prepped him quickly, wanting to tease the man more but his own arousal demanded attention, and another part, dull in the back of his head, knew they had to speed this up, people were leaving for the day, they walked past Oliver’s office and it was only a matter of time before someone needed to talk to Oliver, or was curious to know where Connor had gone.

Soon Connor rolled down the condom, lathered himself up with lotion and lined himself up.

“Ready?” Connor’s hand reached out and caressed down Oliver’s chest, feeling how it stretched out, the muscles there, down his abs and stomach. He slipped his hand under Oliver’s shirt to feel how firm he was just as Oliver’s head turned, cheeks flushed, eyes impatient.

“Yeah.” God, even his voice sounded ragged. And Connor hadn’t even fucked him yet.

Connor’s hand traveled down to meet the other around Oliver’s hips and slowly pressed forward, into Oliver, jaw dropping at the tightness enveloping him. Oliver’s muted sounds of pleasure and whines of discomfort turned Connor on so bad. He wanted to go hard and fast right now, but held back, waiting until he was fully sheathed and letting out a long breath just as Oliver sighed, his head bowing to the desk’s surface.

“ _Oliver_ … you feel so fucking good.”

After a moment of breathing, Oliver lifted his head again, pushing back against Connor and making the younger man hiss.

“C’mon, I’m ready.”

“You better be,” Connor warned. He had wanted to do this forever. This vision before him, Oliver submitting to him, bent over his own desk while Connor’s cock buried in his ass, was something Connor only every fantasized about. He wondered if he could make Oliver beg.

He pulled out slowly, so slowly, only to thrust back in, pulling Oliver back as he did so and making Oliver cry out loudly, striking his prostate immediately.

And Connor kept that pace, tearing short, cut off cries from Oliver that he couldn’t hold back even with a fist in his mouth. A smug smile split across Connor’s face from it, encouraging him to go harder, faster, watching Oliver’s ass shake in his hands every time they connected. Oliver told him to be quick, didn’t he?

Connor threw his head back, biting his own lip to keep his voice in, hair flopping in his face and sweat trailing down his back, under his button down shirt.

A knock at the door made Connor’s hips stutter, but not stopping. He leaned over Oliver’s back and wrapped a hand over his mouth, both eyes trained on the door.

“Mr. Hampton?” A female voice spoke behind the door.

Connor rolled his hips leisurely, keeping his hand over Oliver’s mouth secure as he tried to shake him off.

Connor’s heart leapt in his throat as the doorknob was tested. Oliver whined something quietly behind Connor’s hand, who snapped his hips forward once to silence him, his free hand grabbing hold of the one Oliver tried using to pull his hand off his mouth.

Connor had Oliver flat against his desk, trapping him and continuing to fuck him as the woman’s presence at the door left, mumbling a “Did he leave already…?” to herself as footsteps receded.

“You are too loud,” Connor hissed, pulling Oliver’s head up using the hand around his mouth and biting the man’s ear.

Oliver muffled something, eyes shutting and letting himself be crushed against his desk in renewed vigor as Connor continued fucking him.

A suppressed yelp emitted behind Connor’s hand as he slapped Oliver’s ass, pulling his boss up to an almost standing position, getting his free hand around his stomach and holding Oliver secure against Connor’s front.

“You know—how fucking hot you are?” Connor whispered aggressively into Oliver’s ear, licking it afterward, completely lost in pleasure as Oliver pushed back against him for every thrust.

“Do you?” Connor finally released Oliver’s mouth, only to use his hands to slide under the man’s shirt and tease his nipples.

“Connor, please…” Oliver begged. He cock was swollen and angry from being untouched. “Please…”

“Please what?” Connor could feel his insides coiling, he was so close…

Oliver whined, turning his head and getting a hand around Connor’s head to pull him down for a sloppy kiss.

“Touch me,” Oliver gasped in Connor’s mouth, who had to kiss him deeply to drown out his cry of release, pumping his cock through it.

Connor came after, the desperate sounds Oliver made sending him over the edge and unloading into Oliver, wishing possessively that he wasn’t wearing a condom.

Oliver attacked his mouth after, neck bent awkwardly but seeming to care less as his fingers gripped and pulled Connor’s hair to keep up with the angle.

“Fuck, Oliver…” Connor pressed heavily against him, not willing to let go of him yet, not willing to pull his softening cock out. “You don’t know… how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

The responding smile Oliver gave was so soft and genuine, it made Connor’s heart do numerous backflips.

“Oh, I can tell,” he spoke softly, his grip in Connor’s hair relaxing to a lazy massage, almost fond. “We can do it again, tomorrow night.”

“Yeah?” Connor finally slipped out of Oliver, disposing of the condom and grinning as Oliver gathered him in his arms, lips brushing.

“If you want.”

Connor hummed, lazily rolling his hips against Oliver’s, uncaring about the sticky mess that was transferring to his shirt.

“Isn’t that unprofessional, sir?”

Something flashed across Oliver’s eyes that made Connor smirk. Oliver definitely has a dominant kink, fucker.

“I won’t tell if you don’t."


	64. Coffee Shop-ish AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I FORGOT THIS ONE!

Inside the confines of Daily Planet Coffee, Christmas lights hang from the windows, tall leafy plants hang out in corners, and boards filled with posters and business cards line the back walls. It’s a moderately sized establishment, local, usually housing college kids or young adults using the free Wi-Fi to get some work done.

The cafe has it’s regulars, of course. Most very friendly and chatty, some just ordering the same drink without much conversation, and leaving as soon as they had their coffee.

Connor was one of these regulars.

He was a student, or so the employees of Daily Planet could figure out with the limited chit-chat they managed to squeeze out of the handsome customer. He went to Middleton, was an intern to an overworking, seemingly asshole lawyer (but was still brilliant), and on the weekends would come in disheveled and dirty, like he’d just run a marathon… or he was coming back from a one-night stand…

Not that employees were any to assume, but when you worked with the same people for months and months, gossip was just a normal, unavoidable thing. And Connor was one of their favorite topics of discussion.

One day a new guy came in, dressed like he worked a boring 9-5 job; grey suit with a blue tie, and Harry Potter glasses. He was in front of Connor in line, and the baristas exchanged knowing looks at the way Connor unashamedly stared at this guy’s ass the entire time he placed an order.

Then the glasses guy took a seat, taking out a laptop and settling in with his iced coffee. Connor bought the soup of the day (which shocked everyone behind the counter, Connor always just got a drink and left), and took it over to have a seat right next to the guy.

The workers couldn’t hear what was going on (and couldn’t openly stare, so they took shifts peeking over at the men), but in time Connor had managed to initiate conversation with the computer guy, flipping on a smirk that had the female workers swoon (and one guy drop the drink he was making).

Connor had smiled plenty of times during the months of occasionally visiting the cafe, but it was always casual, polite, whatever. Never intentional, never _provocative_. The glasses guy seemed to have a reaction similar to the employees, fidgeting, laughing nervously, averting his eyes shyly. It was _adorable_.

After that, the employees at Daily Planet secretly hoped they would become a thing. They would get excited whenever one of the men would come in, hoping the other would join them… and here’s the thing: they always did.

The glasses guy’s (Oliver, a cashier had taken the liberty to take a quick peek at his credit card before swiping it) rare, sporadic visits became more and more regular as the weeks went by. If the baristas could determine anything from these visits it was that they weren’t planned.

If Connor arrived first, he would get antsy. He didn’t like waiting, and would force himself to pass the time by playing on his phone or looking at the bulletin boards. Connor would always give up and leave faster than Oliver, probably embarrassed.

If Oliver arrived first, he would sit and look hopeful, trying to casually play it off like he wasn’t looking at the door every time it opened. Sometimes Connor would arrive, but it’d be late (not usual in his typical schedule; Connor always arrived in the mornings), right as Oliver was packing up with a dejected frown.

Then Connor would burst through the door, scanning the dark cafe and spotting Oliver, but pretending he didn’t notice him and waltz up to the counter, placing an order. Then when he had his drink, Connor would turn around, find Oliver, and play it up like he hadn’t just come to the cafe hoping to see him.

Then it finally happened: One day Oliver and Connor arrived to the cafe together. In the morning. The baristas had to calm each other down in their excitement. Oliver was dressed casually, jeans and a T-shirt with a jacket, and Connor had his usual “I just had sex” face on.

And he was standing very close to Oliver, a finger around his belt loop, while the prior ordered two coffees. The workers who had initially witnessed Connor and Oliver’s meeting were the most enthused, biting down grins and keeping their mouths shut until Oliver paid for both of their orders.

The workers wondered if this would be another one-time thing for Connor. They had never seen the young man bring his conquests in here, but they knew of them by Connor’s early morning appearance, a few hints dropped while the cashier would make boring, amiable small talk, and once when a guy stormed in after Connor demanding where he went. Connor had grinned like a smug asshole while the manager had the yelling man escorted from the building.

Judging by the way both men would always come in together, or meet up at the cafe (not to mention the radiant smiles they would throw each other, Connor appearing much more relaxed and happy in Oliver’s presence), the baristas could only assume Connor had met his match, and was holding on to him.

Weeks of the couple’s visits to the coffee shop turned to months, which stretched out into a year. Some baristas left and new ones were hired during this time frame, but those who stuck around, who could say they watched this budding, insecure affection form from the beginning, bloom into romance and love, were eager to fill in the new workers.

Connor and Oliver planned dates there, watching the local bands take the stage before leaving right at closing time, hand in hand. They worked there together, sitting across from each other at the same table, textbook and laptop in front of their respective owners (shoes touching underneath the table). A few times, only a few in the past year, one would come without the other, emotionally drained and visibly upset. They’d been fighting, or so the cashier could discern from vague small talk with Oliver.

That only happened during the early stages of their relationship, because they were never separated again afterwards.

Two years later and Connor and Oliver’s visits dwindled down, becoming nearly non-exsistant. It bummed the veteran baristas out, but regulars came and went, it wasn’t unusual.

Three years later and the long-time manager received a phone call from an Oliver Hampton, he wanted to warn the cafe that he planned on bringing a small party with him around 3pm on Saturday to celebrate his boyfriend’s graduation. The manager was more than happy to allow it, the poetry slam that had been scheduled for that night had been canceled anyway.

Then a couple hours after that, another call came in, this time from a Connor Walsh. He was reserving a table at the coffee shop, around 3pm on Saturday, which was very unusual… you don’t make reservations at a cafe. But then:

“I’m proposing to my boyfriend,” Connor sounded like he was smiling, his voice high and excitable. “We met at Daily Planet three years ago and your shop has always been _our_ place so… everything has to be perfect.”

The manager worked out a time frame with Connor, her own nerves singing for them. She didn’t tell the staff what was happening; she wanted them to be just as elated and surprised as the two men who were meant to be together forever.

Once it finally happened, and Oliver said yes (of course) everyone in the establishment whooped and hollered in celebration. After sliding the simple silver band over Oliver’s left ring finger, Connor pulled him in for a kiss, both of them smiling through it, hands gripping each other like they’d never let go.

Further into the future, polaroids from that night remained tacked up on the bulletin board, reminding patrons and employees alike, that love can be found anywhere.


	65. Oliver's distracting muscles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, more long forgotten headcanons that I discovered, bored one night and going through my coliver tag on tumblr lol

**Anonymous:** another headcanon if thats okay: so now that oliver isnt working he has a lot of free time so hes been trying all these new recipes and making elaborate dinners for connor. hes also been going to the gym. A LOT. hello biceps - something that hasnt gone unnoticed by connor

* * *

...of course Connor loves the meals, he’s always amazed at what Oliver can do (and admittedly feeling a little useless for all his skills ordering takeout) and if he’s home while Oliver is cooking, he’ll try to help in any way, asking what he should chop or what seasonings to add, making dinner together becomes a new thing (and although it slows down once Oliver finds another job, it’s become a tradition and they’ll always have a night to cook dinner together at least once a week).

Oliver already had a gym membership while he was at work, but didn’t go very often, maybe once a week in his hectic schedule. But during his unemployment, Oliver visits the gym every day, focusing on increasing his stamina and strength training. 

He says he’s doing it for himself but everyone knows that he secretly does it because he’s become addicted to the way Connor’s jaw hits the floor whenever he walks around the apartment shirtless now. When Oliver pulls his arms this way and that, stretching his triceps before pulling back on his elbow, hand down his spine, or swaying an arm out while he’s cooking, flexing his wrist before making a fist (raising an eyebrow at the gasp from Connor, who he thought was in the living room), tensing up his muscles before relaxing them. He can feel Connor’s burning glances at him but never says anything, smirking to himself. After a few weeks of the gym, even Oliver had to admit how sculpted he was looking, a surge of pride flowing through him after every work out.

Connor obviously helped with the confidence boost, touching him more often, complimenting his appearance at every opportunity, letting Oliver lead during sex, dropping hints (but never outright asking or begging) to be controlled… Oliver finds out Connor has some kind of hidden kink to be dominated and will use his extra strength to heft Connor up and against walls or flipping them effortlessly in bed, so Oliver hovers over Connor, easily pinning both of his wrists in one hand above his head.

There’s also a time when Oliver decides to surprise Connor when he comes home from work by wearing nothing but an apron while he’s cooking. Oliver hears the front door open and close and turns to watch Connor toe off his shoes before they catch each other’s eyes, Connor’s growing comically wide at the small apron that covers barely anything on Oliver’s body.

He’s walking to the kitchen in almost a trance, removing his jacket and tie along they way, when Oliver turns back around to face the stove and Connor sees his bare ass he runs into the island, the sharp corner digging into his abdomen and he grunts painfully, sinking to the floor. Needless to say, Oliver doesn’t do that again (even though Connor insists he should _definitely_ try again).


	66. Oliver is a restless sleeper

**Anonymous** : headcanon for you: oliver sometimes is a restless sleeper and wakes up in the middle of the night. when he does hell usually go into the living room and read or watch a show on his ipad. sometimes connor wakes up too and goes and gets him.

* * *

Yes. And it’s nothing to do with stress or their relationship, Oliver has just always had a hard time sleeping since grad school (he used to take sleeping pills but weaned himself off them after realizing he was becoming a bit too dependent on them). Sitting in front of a computer almost all day every day takes a huge strain on his eyes, which are always burning and aching and even his trips to the gym do nothing to alleviate the pain in his back from being hunched over his desk.

So laying down and closing his eyes is something his body just doesn’t agree with so he’ll often put them to use, reading or watching TV until he naturally feels tired and heads back to the bedroom.

Connor almost always notices Oliver’s absence after maybe an hour because his body is missing the presence of Oliver it naturally needs. He’d roll over, his arm falling over nothing but a cooling dip in the mattress and sit up with a sigh, rubbing his face and making his way to the living room, dragging the blanket along.

They’ve gotten to a point where Oliver stops acting surprised and apologizing, _“Did I wake you?”_ and now just snuggle into each other, Oliver reading aloud for Connor if it’s a book or passing him an earbud as they share the iPad to continue watching until they pass out on the couch.


	67. Coliver + New Girl + Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably the only one who finds these funny, as this thing written years ago has no notes on my tumblr lmao

Connor: “I’m the only man in the office, of course I’m gonna dress up like Santa. Look, I like it. I get all this dirt on my coworkers. They get drunk and whisper what they want… And I use that information to subtly undermine them and control them for the rest of the year.”

Oliver and Connor are friends who secretly pine after each other but know nothing will ever come of it (because they are both stubborn and dense and nervous about ruining their friendship) and so often have cute bickerings like this:

Oliver complaining to Connor what to get his new bf for Christmas, “I was thinking a gift card for sex…” Opens it and shows Connor and it reads: ‘good for one: nerdy weird sex that works for both of us’ and Connor is laughing and takes the card.

“Okay, give it back,” Oliver tries to make a grab for it but Connor turns, smiling fiendishly. “This is amazing, I’m gonna keep this.” While Oliver is all, “c'mon.”

“I’m gonna cash this is one night and get some weird nerd sex with it.”

“No, but it’s not for you.” Continuing to make grabs for it while Connor is wrestling Oliver with his free hand.

Connor complaining later about the Santa costume to Oliver, that he doesn’t really like it and his boss is always pressuring him to do it. And Oliver is sympathetic, kinda. “Don’t let her talk to you like that. Otherwise all she’ll ever see you as is a pretty face and a hot body.” Connor blanks. “Wait, what did you say?”

Oliver grins slyly. “You have a pretty face?”

“No, no, the part about the hot body.”


End file.
